Duality
by Demonic Weasel
Summary: PSIV A tale detailing the rise of Juza the Acolyte as Zio's right hand and fall of Juza the Magistrate. Rated T for language, some descriptive violence, and some relatively vague sexual allusions.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

A Sordid Affair

AN: With this particular tale, I'm straying a bit from my usual habits. This story is primarily a character portrait, and it is, thusly, largely dependent on the final scene in the final chapter. If this culmination is a miss, then the whole story suffers as a result, and as such an experiment, comment is especially appreciated here. A few technical notes; Juza, Zio, Alys Brangwin, and Galf are all the property of Sega. The plot, dialogues and other characters are all owned by me.

Also, special thanks to DezoPenguin for loaning me "the Thunder Sword."

It's not time to make a change,  
Just sit down, take it slowly.  
You're still young, that's your fault,  
There's so much you have to go through.  
Find a girl, settle down,  
If you want you can marry.  
Look at me, I am old, but I'm happy.

All the times that I cried, keeping all the things I knew inside,  
It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it.  
If they were right, I'd agree, but it's them They know not me.  
Now there's a way and I know that I have to go away.  
I know I have to go.

4th and 5th verses of "Father and Son"

Lyrics copyrighted to Cat Stevens

Juza stared sternly at the two boys who were shamefacedly shuffling their feet before him, dropping their eyes from his gaze. Coughing nervously, he straightened the papers spread before him on his enormous mahogany desk. He felt nothing more than an urge to scream, but all he did was to cough again.

"Hmm," he said, clearing his throat loudly. "Hm. Given, ah… given the various, ah…" he stopped, clearing his throat again, until he was confident that he could go on. "Given the unusual circumstances surrounding the wronged party, the lack of pressed charges, and the relatively minor nature of your crimes, the Council is inclined to look upon these affairs with lenience." He stopped again, feeling hot and sullen. His loose fitting doublet was clinging to him in now in the unseasonable heat, and his head throbbed with pain. He never even wanted to hear the name of Zio again. "I, however, am not," he finished, belatedly recognizing the silence that had opened up.

The boys continued to stare mutely at their feet, refusing him the basic courtesy of meeting his eyes. Juza supposed that he should be grateful that these were just a pair of boys in for a dressing down rather than any of the others who wouldn't meet his gaze… "Hmm," he coughed again. "Breaking the, ah, peace is quite a serious matter…" _No matter how much I agree with the sentiment, in this case. _

The day was too hot and still to think. A soft voice broke in upon his ruminations. "Perhaps you shall allow me a suggestion, Magistrate."

Juza's mouth opened a full three seconds before he was prepared to speak. "Lord," he said, only just remembering the appellation, "Zio. I believe it is customary to knock before letting oneself into another's property."

The current cause of nearly all his _official_ headaches stood before him. Lord Zio was a tall, very pale man, and quite slender. His hair was black and glossy, nearly the same value as the plain and unadorned armor that the man always wore. Indeed, the only concession to a color other than black in Zio's appearance was the inner lining of his cloak, a deep red. It was an effect intended to impress, but Juza found it just as unconvincing and pretentious now as he had the first time he'd ever seen Zio.

Zio bowed slightly, the arrogant corners of his mouth lifting in a slight smile. "Forgive me, my friend. I only thought that as I am the wronged party in this matter, that perhaps I might make a suggestion or two."

"Certainly," said Juza struggling to keep his irritation from his voice. "You do have that right to be sure." He shuffled the papers in front of him, coughing again. "Do be seated."

"You are very kind." Zio turned his cold gaze to the two boys. "I am tempted to take a stronger view of this matter. The vandalism of my church does not amuse me. However, I also recognize that the education of the young is our duty. Magistrate Juza, I formally petition you to give me jurisdiction over these young men for one morning, say in two days, to do penance for their crime upon my premises."

"Proselytizing is against the law." The objection came out more sharply than Juza had meant it to.

"To be sure," Zio agreed amiably. "I merely feel that these two might learn best from this occurrence should they understand the culture, the history that they were attacking. I assure you, there shall be nothing involved in this but certain menial chores that we must all perform from time to time… and instruction. When the young go astray of the law, Magistrate, I am sure you demand rightful recompense… and so to do you take them aside to try and make them understand why the law says what it says. This violation of our sacred ground can only truly be cleansed in understanding."

There was nothing that Juza could say to that, so he sat fumbling for a long moment. "To be sure," he assented awkwardly. "I was merely attempting to ascertain that _our_ laws would not be compromised." The second part came out easier, sounded better. Long experience led Juza to analyze nearly everything even as he said it, and that practice he held to particularly around Lord Zio. He did not trust the man.

"I'll draw up the document now," he offered by way of apology, shifting uncomfortably against the heat.

Zio blinked. "No need, Magistrate. I've already taken the liberty of having one drawn up. It just needs your signature."

Juza felt his anger uncoiling at that. How dare Zio presume to anticipate this? Hardly unreasonable, but it did gall him. Nearly as much as Zio's habit of either addressing him formally, or as 'friend.' He turned a hard gaze to the boys, quickly. They were still staring at their feet, but Juza was certain that just a moment ago they'd been looking at him. _Aye, go on, snigger. You know you want to. The Magistrate's been outmatched. _

His anger was a sullen thing, but long practice made it easy for Juza to conceal it as he stood, accepting the proffered document. He quickly scrawled his signature, sitting back down. After a long moment, he looked back down at the boys. "You can leave," he told them curtly. "Lord Zio will see that you're disciplined on the day in question… and I shall help him find you should that prove in any way difficult." He flicked two fingers. "Now go."

As the boys half-ran from the room, Juza turned his gaze back to Zio. The clergyman had not left as Juza had hoped he would, though he doubted it. If Zio had only been interested in the boys, he would have sent one of his acolytes. Of that much, Juza was certain.

"I thank you my friend," Zio said politely. "You have done both your duty and me a kindness."

Juza's eyes narrowed. He hated being addressed as 'friend' by Zio. He hated that worse than all the rest. When Zio had first come to Kadary, he had been a quiet enough presence. Then in a mere five days, he had shocked the town by requesting permission to build this church of his, this new religion.

The Council had agreed quickly enough, save Juza alone. He had been outraged and he still was, though not for the religious reasons that Zio likely suspected him of having. Juza not only held a secular position in society, religion had no meaning for him. It was the precedent that had stunned him when the council had spinelessly handed that right over to Zio… _All the progress we've made since the Great Collapse… all our advances in society and we could be thrown back into howling barbarism. _In his closing statements on that vote, Juza had issued a scathing denouncement of Zio's proposal and the Council's acceptance of it. And ever since then, Lord Zio had treated Juza with more courtesy and solicitation than he did any of the other Councilmen. Juza hated that.

To fill up the silence, Juza forced a smile. "Of course, Lord Zio. Is there aught else I could do for you?"

"I confess that I have some slight curiosity as to whether or not you shall be attending the Lord Mayor's little party this evening?"

Juza's cheek twitched at that. Lord Mayor Argus was a fool and a spineless coward as well. "Of course."

"And how," Zio asked innocently, "is your charming wife?"

A slow dull flush crept up Juza's neck. _That's the way of it, then. That bitch has opened her legs to you too? To you?_ Mastering the disgust and envy that flooded his breast at Zio's insinuation, he merely said, "Quite well."

"Ah," said Zio. He rose abruptly, nodding to Juza. "Thank you for your time, Magistrate. Perhaps there will be time enough for us to speak this evening." With that, Lord Zio stepped out the room with the subdued grace that he had always possessed.

Juza sat there staring sullenly ahead into space. Twenty long years as Magistrate of Kadary… twenty years and now where had it all gone? He was a learned man, a rational man, and yet he couldn't keep this envy, this darkness from his thoughts. Indeed, it had disturbed him; just how often his thoughts turned black these past few weeks…

He could pore over his accounts from dawn to dusk till his eyes blurred, he could execute masterly tact and justice, he could speak for the long-term benefit of Kadary in the council, he could immerse himself in his hard-won job, with the precision that had won him the recognition he deserved, he could do everything and yet… and yet… It wasn't enough. Even with his eyes open, even with his mind on the cases before him, he could visualize the exact tilt of her head, the shape of her nose, the line of her jaw…

With a sudden violent motion, Juza slammed his hand down on his hardwood desk, swinging his arm across the table, scattering his papers and knocking three old candle stubs off of the polished surface. Even now, he couldn't master his hatred, his love, his _distraction_.

Juza's lips trembled for a brief moment as he breathed heavily. _Elizabeth_… Yes, he could still visualize that tilt of the head very well, the curious, open, friendly spark in her eyes… _That was all long ago,_ he reminded himself, in an effort to retain his rationality, his dignity in the face of this onslaught of his emotionalism. _Before Zio. Before the Council. Before now. Not for me anymore. _

Still, much as he fought it, he couldn't prevent the stream of memories. Couldn't prevent the shakiness in his hand. Couldn't even prevent his desire to somehow mend the situation, to somehow…

With a grunt of useless anger, Juza forced himself up from the chair. He took two massive strides towards his little side cabinet, and brusquely searched around for a moment or two. He grunted again, in approval this time, as he pulled out a bottle of brandy. It was still a little early in the day for such a heavy drink, but dammit all, his nerves were all shot to pieces and he needed _something_ or other.

He slumped back into his seat, half tidying his papers as he uncorked the bottle. Not bothering to pour the drink into a glass, he raised the bottle to his lips and took a good swig. He sighed, feeling slightly better. He could still feel the frantic nervousness beneath the surface, but at least he was a little calmer now. He lifted the bottle again, and then stopped frowning. Tempting though it was, it would be better to pour himself an actual drink this time.

Juza prided himself on his moderation and he would need his wits about him tonight anyhow. His spineless colleagues on the council would doubtless try to wring various concessions from him, or alternately try to win his support for their latest, corrupt or merely incompetent proposal. And Lord Zio would be there. _And Elizabeth. Always Elizabeth… _

With a scarcely repressed shudder, Juza pushed all concerns of his personal life away from him, focusing his attention at last, on the most recent reports of various misdemeanors or complaints.

Thankfully enough, Kadary was very quiet in terms of actual crimes these days. Indeed, it was unfair of him to ascribe great trouble to Zio… well, unfair in a limited sense, at any rate. The only thing of any note seemed to be an escalating rivalry between the two most powerful merchant princes of the region. Eddard Crane and Luthor Orcis.

Now _there_ was a business that Juza had truly no wish of being mixed up in. Very wealthy, very demanding, and very arrogant, either man was trying at the best of times. Still, the way things were going between them… Juza's mouth tightened with displeasure. Neither one was exactly above board as far as anything went. He'd never been able to prove it, but he knew that both of them had engaged in some pretty illegal business from time to time, usually in their endless game of profits, back and forth with each other.

A groan burst from Juza's lips as he realized, belatedly, that both men would be at the Lord Mayor's party this evening. As if he needed _another_ bloody headache. If they were there then Juza would, after all, be obliged to try to do something about the whole sordid business. Based on the reports in front of him, neither Eddard nor Luthor were currently doing anything strictly illegal, but they were stretching the law about as far it would go, if not a little farther. _Bloody lovely. Maybe Elizabeth can handle bloody Eddard Crane._

The mere thought of it sparked his anger again. Twenty years he'd been magistrate… twenty long years, cleansing Kadary of corruption, and all he'd ever accrued from that was grudging respect from a few, and the envy of lesser men. And what was his reward for a life of such service? His bloody marriage was ending.

_My deliriously happy marriage,_ he remembered. _As long as it lasted. Elizabeth…_ The pain that gripped him was momentarily stronger than the hatred. The disgust. The envy and the rage. Juza was a logical man, a rational man. And yet, he had truly loved Elizabeth. Would it truly make her happy, to leave him? To wreck him in this disgrace? If it would, then he wanted that for her, logically and emotionally.

_Fine rhetoric,_ he mocked himself mercilessly. _By all the gods of Algo, you're a pathetic, mewling, hypocritical excuse for a man. Bloody fact of the matter is that I've tied myself to bloody Elizabeth, ball and chain. And now those spineless sycophants on the council, the bloody people of Kadary that I've served, because MY marriage is ending, they have no respect for me. Half of them won't even look at me! Elizabeth, you evil bitch! You've done this to me. Wrecked me. _

The blood pounded through his head at nearly the same speed as each increasingly dark thought. Still, of the whole thing, it was the complete lack of consideration for him that really stung. That was what had really hurt Juza. Her complete disregard for him in this whole equation.

Dammit it all, Juza had never even expected to get married! Certainly, he had always considered it a dubious proposal, but with Elizabeth… there had been something there. Some warmth about her, something in the manner she held, some way she had of speaking, of focusing his attention, something in the bonds she had formed with nearly everyone, everything… And alright, if he was honest with himself, Juza had wanted that. He still did, but Juza was a man, and he could modulate his less than logical weaknesses where he had to. He had wanted that nearly as much as he had wanted her, in a more prosaic way, anyhow.

He had considered himself lucky to have even married her in the first place, and those first two years… well, if she had wanted the occasional affair, he wouldn't have minded. He would have kept the secret for her; indeed, it wouldn't have really mattered to Juza, as long as he had been able to keep this other thing, this intangible quality of hers. And yes, honestly, he would have asserted his conjugal rights from time to time, Elizabeth was, after all, incredibly attractive in that way, with her shoulder-length hair, ovular face, and that complexion… and all of that without even moving onto the more salient (and very satisfying) details of her form! Yes, he had been reasonable about that whole matter, he had been considerate to her, and now she was wrecking the entire marriage! With not a single thought of how this would affect Juza. His fury uncoiled, hot and angry. So much sweeter than the pain.

He sat there breathing heavily for approximately six seconds, and then released his breath sharply. He could let go of his anger, at least for the moment. And really, if this was the way it was, then Juza could accept that. He could accept that his marriage was ending, because Elizabeth was a duplicitous, scheming, evil… He relaxed his shoulders. That was not good. He'd nearly slipped back into irrational anger there. To be sure, he'd been given cause, but this was just another problem amongst many. Just another bit of business to be attended to. _Very well. If the bitch wants a divorce, then I'll bloody well give her one, custom be damned. By all the gods of Algo… I'll give her one. _

---

"Magistrate Juza Atheon," the butler announced judiciously.

"Ah, Juza," cried the Lord Mayor, waddling forward, his double chin jiggling at every step. "How very good of you to come." He shook Juza's hand, his voice suddenly changing sharply as he snapped at the butler, "Don't you have things to attend to, Parker?" The butler bowed deferentially, immediately padding out of the room.

In the meantime, Mayor Argus continued to enthusiastically pump Juza's hand. Juza noted with disgust that Argus's own hands were ever so slightly moist. "Anyway, my dear Juza," the Mayor went on in a tone of forced friendliness, "glad that you could come. Very glad indeed." He finally released Juza's hand, only to throw his left arm around Juza's shoulder, guiding him over to the others already arrived.

"Betsy," the Mayor barked. "I'm sure that the Magistrate will find that tale of yours most intriguing. If you'll excuse me momentarily," he added, slipping off himself.

Juza in the meantime found himself accosted by the four others in the room. Betsy, the Lord Mayor's wife, stood, offering him a seat. "A drink, Magistrate Juza?"

"Juza," he said stiffly as he took the indicated seat, though he leant restlessly forward. "And yes, thank you. I am… honored to be here." The words sound stilted, formal and insincere even to Juza, but the others pretended to take no notice of the irony permeating his tone.

"Juza, old boy," remarked Eddard Crane, sitting across from him with one leg thrown casually over the other, "I was beginning to fear you wouldn't make it." There was a disdainful smile on his lips.

"Eddard," he said coldly. "Good to see you again. How is your latest deal coming? As I recall, it was a shipment of parums, wasn't it?"

Eddard Crane shifted slightly; the arrow had struck home. Parums were a very a rare fruit, and very profitable for merchants to carry. However, Luthor Orcis had somehow (illegally, Juza knew) gotten hold of Eddard's shipping information and had cut him out of his own deal.

Fortunately, just at that same moment, Betsy intervened to breakup the swiftly gathering tension, handing a drink over to Juza. He smiled and thanked her, taking a moment to study the Mayor's wife. A short woman, with a round-ish shape, though not especially heavy… no, she was not attractive, but there was some grace about her that drew the eye.

_And that,_ he thought sneeringly, _is married to Argus. Well maybe there is some justice in the world after all. _

Certainly, Juza's long career as magistrate had taught him that there was little kindness or justice in the world, and that it was men who made all of either. Eddard, in the meantime, was saying, "Your command of detail is masterly, but I believe that your memory must have failed you in this case. My last shipment was one of cleerum spice."

_Lies or semantics,_ thought Juza, but all he said was, "Indeed?" He took a good mouthful of the wine, swirling the rest of it around slowly in his glass as he met Eddard Crane's gaze again. He leant forward, allowing himself a slower, dignified sip of his drink. "Anyway, Ned," he began, using the merchant's familiar, when the door to the room swung open again.

"Elizabeth Atheon," came Parker's servile tones.

Before Juza could so much as turn his head, his wife was already upon them, all friendly smiles. She was dressed in a white, rather revealing gown. Juza felt his mouth go dry at the sight of both her flesh, and her beauty. On the purely aesthetic level, one thing he'd always appreciated about Elizabeth had been that despite the extremity of her erotic charms, they were proportionate erotic charms.

_By the gods of Algo… pitiful, excuse, weak reaction… _"Elizabeth," he said calmly as she took a seat between him and Ned Crane. But he could see that she knew the calmness was a façade. She smiled; leaning over to him to give an enthusiastic hug (she gave nearly everyone enthusiastic hugs).

"Juza," she said brightly. "I've barely seen you today."

He struggled for a moment to reply to such banal, if ordinary, small talk. "It… it's… yes." The moment the words left his mouth, Juza could feel a slow flush creeping up his face. Elizabeth smiled again at him, both fondly and quizzically, even giggling a little at the idiocy he had just pronounced.

He struggled to fill the silence between them for a moment, but then she turned to Eddard Crane, politely greeting him and striking up a conversation. Juza didn't hear them talking, as abruptly as that he was consumed by lust. Overpowering, all consuming lust.

He had to grip the arms of his chair to control the blood thundering through his head. Taking one quiet, deep breath, he reached for his wine glass, only to realize that it was empty. He frowned momentarily and started to put the glass back down as he tried to control the envy and disgust that had suddenly flooded his very being, when he realized belatedly that he was being spoken to.

"Would you like another glass of wine, Juza?"

Startled, he met Betsy's gaze. For a moment, he hesitated, glancing back at Elizabeth and Eddard and Stefan, Kadary's treasurer, who was contributing occasional monosyllables to the conversation. "Please," he said, handing his glass over to the Mayor's wife. Bloody Eddard Crane and bloody Elizabeth… the food was not yet laid out, but what reason had he _not _to take a drink? All of Kadary either refused to acknowledge him thanks to Elizabeth, or treated him only mockingly as had Ned Crane. Even Betsy now… there was some curious, somber expression on her face. So, why not take a drink? Why not, indeed?

---

It was some time later when Juza finally realized that he was drunk. The room was full of people, and he didn't remember all of them coming… but when they were determined to scorn him for factors beyond his control, why should he give a damn? And the food was out… had the food come? It must have, seeing that it was out, but Juza certainly didn't recall having noted it at the time. Come to think of it, he didn't remember getting the plate of bread and cheese in his left hand either. All in all, Juza had to concede that if was not precisely drunk, then he was certainly more drunk than sober.

The room was noisy, crowded… hot. But his eyes were only for the face of Eddard Crane… and Elizabeth, dancing gracefully with Luthor Orcis. Ned Crane's eyes were following her… _She's my wife dammit! Divorce or no…_ but they weren't divorced, he suddenly realized. _She just bloody well doesn't care about me anymore. Well, why should I? _

He leant against the wall, struggling to keep his disgust from rising out of control as he watched Eddard's regular, even handsome features. "These revelries… they make one wonder of the justice in the world, do they not Magistrate?"

Juza started. He had not noticed Zio, now come to stand beside him. "Justice," he mumbled in response. "They're all… so young." It was a startling thought. Even the ones that were of an age with Juza… what winter had come for them? So young and heedless and foolish… _It's hot, but I'm still bloody cold. Do they even notice either? _

"There is so much pain in all of Algo. So much injustice and hunger… and yet here we are, with those who do better than sufficient. And here we eat and drink." There was a hypnotic quality to Zio's voice. "How does this serve Kadary? How does this serve any of the noble impulses in our sad little world?"

The wine and the heat made Juza heedless of subterfuge and he was tired anyway. Not bothering to keep the sarcastic bite from his voice, he slurred, "Whereas your church does serve these oh-so noble causes, my lord?"

Zio was silent for a moment. "You dislike religion; do you not, my friend? And yet what cause have I given you for suspicion, or indeed offence? What harm have I done Kadary?"

"I don't care about your bloody church or your religion. It's all the same to me. Meaningless." He lurched forward slightly, grabbing a full wine glass from a passing tray. "But the progress to be unmade… won't have it." Was it the wine that was making him incoherent, or merely Zio's insufferable company? Juza wasn't certain, but he also found that he didn't much care.

"And yet…" Zio shrugged gracefully. "Well, we serve the same strictures, you and I. It is only you, my friend. Is it truly justice that you serve, or do you love Kadary more? Or even yourself."

Juza was silent for a moment. In his current mood, even faux camaraderie with the likes of Zio was better than his own company. Nonetheless, he could feel some vague unease stirring. And certainly, Zio's company was almost more welcome than that of any other person. _Any_ other person. And yet, something pushed him in the other direction, though he wasn't sure what.

"I must be going," he declared, his voice thickened by the wine.

For a good long moment, Zio said nothing, but then the faintest brush of a smile touched his lips. "Ah, Magistrate Juza…" he inclined his head to Juza, before taking a few long strides to the other side of the room where he promptly accosted Betsy.

Juza stumbled forward, just a little off-balance. He moved, determined to avoid speaking to his wife again if he could, but just as he started off, Luthor Orcis swept Elizabeth right into Juza's path, ending their dance with a small flourish.

Elizabeth turned to him, smiling, almost immediately. "Juza. We haven't danced yet." He acknowledged this observation in sullen silence. He knew that his wife loved to dance, but he also knew that she neither shallow enough nor insipid enough to make such an offer just for the sake of a dance, or indeed for appearances. Elizabeth took a delight in shocking people. No, he concluded sourly, this offer could only be a peace offering.

_As if a bloody dance is due recompense. _

Juza was a reasonable man though, and despite his dislike of her, he could hardly refuse such a reasonable request. And she was still his wife. He nodded curtly to her, taking her hand stiffly.

After the first few steps, Elizabeth raised an eyebrow. "People will think that something is wrong if you keep scowling like that. Is something wrong?"

Stumbling slightly on a crossover, Juza suggested, "The people I serve with are idiots? My days are filled with trivial crime? Nobody will meet my eyes? My marriage is ending?"

Despite his unusual clumsiness at the dancing, she managed to move just as gracefully as ever. There was a curious, nearly tender expression on her face. "Are you actually upset?" She sounded bemused. "Were your motives any different than what they must be…?"

"Then what," Juza snarled angrily, his grip on her hands tightening slightly. "Then, what?" he repeated. "What would that change, my dear?"

Her eyes widened. "Juza…"

Before he knew what was happening, he was falling hard backwards, crashing to the floor amidst the sound of shattering glass. His eyes stung, and it took him a moment to realize that wine was dripping from him. He'd tripped backwards over a small table as Parker was passing, and now he looked a fool, sitting in the midst of a mess. Juza felt a slow flush creeping through his skin as he realized what an utter fool he'd made of himself, and as he heard a few laughs from the other guests.

He lurched unsteadily back to his feet, and coldly finished the dance, then immediately left.

---

Juza lay unmoving on his back on his bed, but it was no good. It rarely was. He had never been much a one for sleep, had Juza. What was it Zio always said? _Night is always coming._ It was true. Always…

Juza restlessly turned over, but he couldn't escape his own thoughts as easily as he had the dinner party. _Elizabeth…_ Yes, it was true. What was the bloody good of denying it? He missed her even now. Although… if he had ever needed confirmation that he would be best off to leave well enough alone, tonight had been that confirmation. Although it did gall him to see that it was bloody Eddard Crane that she'd set her eyes on.

Well, more power to Elizabeth. Why not, after all? Crane was relatively young, very wealthy, good-looking, and quite influential. With a sudden violent sigh, Juza swung up and staggered blearily from his bed, going over to study himself in his highly polished mirror. He looked shot.

With another groan, the Magistrate of Kadary made his way over to his favorite chair. It was too hot to sleep. After settling in, he fumbled with a bottle on the sideboard, before just giving up and taking a swig. The whiskey helped to calm his nerves, but there was still Elizabeth… _Bloody Light, my mind's running circles. _Juza was a little drunk and very tired. With a final groan, he reposed himself more comfortably in the chair. Just to sleep… blessed sleep, an escape, enough time for his mind to compose itself…

It was just as he nearly drifted off that he heard the pounding on his door. Juza forced himself up, and after a few moments of absently touching curios, he staggered over to the door, opened it, and peered blearily out. There were two young police lieutenants there, both white-faced.

"Couldn't believe it," one (Detton, he thought) was saying, "Horrible… and so, vicious it's… Magistrate!"

"Don't shout," Juza counseled him wearily.

The lieutenant, yes it was Detton, nervously ran a hand through his hair. "It's ah… I'm afraid that it's very serious, Magistrate. The whole household in fact, all of it… them…"

"What is it, exactly? Some kind of accident?"

Detton sighed. "Well… the face of it is this sir. The estate is all destroyed. They're all dead. Murder."

"Who," Juza demanded impatiently.

Detton shifted uncomfortably. "Sorry, Magistrate. It's, ah… well, it's Ned Crane, sir."


	2. Chapter 2: Disadvantages of Impartiality

Chapter 2

Disadvantages of Impartiality

Juza stared, his mind momentarily blank. "Dead?" he asked at last, his voice sounding quite normal, if perhaps a trifle tired. A little wine-thickened. "Eddard Crane is dead?"

Detton nodded, still looking a little shaken. "Yes, sir. The whole estate is practically destroyed. Everyone in the house at the time is dead."

Despite all he'd drunk tonight, Juza was still quick-witted enough to catch the implication. "An act of terrorism?" He frowned, wondering. It was hardly impossible, but what would be the purpose of destroying a merchant's estate? "To prove that wealth does not, indeed, buy safety," he muttered to himself, wondering. And even if that was the case, it would still be a little unusual. This was hardly Dezolis where such things were common.

Detton, who still, surprisingly, looked a little shaken, shook his head. "Possibly, Magistrate, but it's… well, it's not very likely. You'll understand once you see Crane himself." Seemingly unconsciously, the police lieutenant shuddered. "It's horrible."

_Good_, thought Juza, reveling in his sense of vindication, but all he said was, "Can you handle it for a few hours? I'll need a little time to get things together." He knew that he must look quite run-down to these two subordinates of his, exhausted certainly. Drunk, probably. But, Elizabeth had already insured that nearly all of Kadary either pitied or scoffed at him, so Juza didn't care what they thought.

"Of course," said Detton, though a bit hesitantly. Well, no wonder. If a lieutenant as seasoned as Detton was still shaken up by whatever he'd found, it must be truly horrible. And, given that, no matter how experienced a man might be, he would be uncomfortable to have to sit on and ward such evidence, even for just a few hours.

Juza nodded peremptorily to the two men and stepped back inside, not sparing a further word. As the door closed, he finally gave vent to the shudder of joy he'd been holding in. _Eddard Crane is dead. Ned Crane is _dead!

Why conceal it, after all? He had never liked Ned Crane anyway, and although Elizabeth had insured that he especially disliked the merchant, there was no reason to not be honest. Although… He sighed, staggering forward, blinking twice. There was no point in denying it at any great length, he did have a motive. And he was in charge of investigating the case. He could, he supposed, file a report against himself, though he knew he hadn't killed Eddard Crane. But why even take the risk? It was only justice to acknowledge himself as a suspect… and yet, Juza felt that it would be too great a risk. On the Council, who in all of Kadary could replace him, should the Mayor or others seize this as a chance to destroy him? None could truly replace him, but somebody would… And who did Kadary have on the Council to stand up for the people, for even true justice?

_There is only me. _

If Juza went, Kadary wouldn't even last another decade. And truly, who else was there for Kadary? Even when the Council had the occasional good idea, which it didn't, their planning was generally woefully inadequate and floundering. Juza was not like to do Kadary any good by filing a report as a possible suspect against himself, and yet…

_After the case is finished,_ he decided. Then it could enter the official justice. Duplicitous, yes, but even the lie had honor. With a sigh, Juza flung himself limply into his chair again, seeking an hour or so of escape. He would be no good if he was too tired to think, after all, but the sleep continued to elude him. It was the heat… and Eddard Crane.

The merchant's lifeless face kept floating up before Juza's eyes, refusing to let him gain any rest, refusing to let him ignore the highly cyclical thoughts in his head. Ned Crane kept looking at Juza, alternately amused, outraged, or arrogant… all the primary emotions that Juza had seen of the merchant in his life… and that left Elizabeth.

What would Elizabeth do now that the merchant she'd liked so well was dead? Try to mend the marriage? Juza snorted in self-deprecation. Even he ought to have enough pride to not waste his time imagining that. Would she weep for the merchant prince? For that matter, if news was brought to her of Juza's sudden and untimely murder, would she shed a few tears for _him_? Hah! He'd be a fool to even hope for as much. Not that he did. Never that.

Elizabeth would… no, he would definitely deal with his wife later. He'd been dealing with her, in a very loose sense of the word of course, for the whole of the bloody day. And there was no one he'd rather deal with less than his dear, charming, beautiful, _devoted_ wife. Not that he'd been much of a husband, he supposed…

Still, he'd been so shocked, so wounded, so appalled… The simple _why_ of it all still eluded Juza. He'd realized at the party what he had only vaguely suspected beforehand; despite everything, Elizabeth was still fond of him, in her way. Fond of his quirks, his flaws, his strengths… and yet, she was still actively crippling him before the Council and shaming him in the streets of Kadary!

Juza had never been in love with his wife (despite the two deliriously happy years of marriage, which he refused to acknowledge as love or anything else for that matter) but he had still obsessively coveted that intangible quality of hers. He had placed such absurd value on it… whatever it was. And it was still there, he had seen that. That warmth… whatever it was. He still desired it, for he had felt that too, to his consternation.

And yet, he had seen in equal measure at the party, he now wearily acknowledged with a clearer head, that he did have her intangible quality. He still possessed it in some degree. In some fashion, in some way, she still belonged to him. But it was not the same.

How could he take something that he already had? How could she withhold something that she had already given him? He had this quality of Elizabeth's… and yet he didn't have it. In some way she still controlled it. She still had all of it. How could he even come up with a rational approach to an intangible in the first place? How could he fight someone that he couldn't plan against?

And why wouldn't Ned Crane's face leave him? He had taken no action against the merchant prince, though he wasn't sorry that the fool was dead. And, even more disturbing, what would Mayor Argus urge the Council to do while all of Juza's time was spent focused on this wide-spread act of violence? True, Juza was only one man and could cast only one vote on the Council, but he'd been successful before in getting enough public support behind him to cow his craven colleagues. But then that support might be ebbing now that Elizabeth…

With a muffled groan, Juza twisted about in the chair, lifting his head, and staring blearily out of the window. It was light outside. He'd meant to catch an hour or so of sleep, but he'd spent it all dozing. He was slightly startled by the amount of self-disgust that he felt. _Well, why not?_ He forced himself to his feet, his head swimming with tiredness. Spots swam before his eyes. _I've only spent the whole of a day in equal parts of maudlin ponderings and self pity. And now I've got to investigate the murder of a man who probably brought it on himself. _

Juza stood in front of a small mirror, momentarily startled by his appearance. Whereas the last time he'd looked, he'd seemed run-down, he now appeared positively ravaged. The lines of his face were set much more deeply, and as for being tired… even _exhausted_ looking might be an understatement. His graying hair was frazzled and unkempt. On the other hand, he didn't feel very drunk anymore. No, quite the opposite, aside from the requisite headache.

Muttering a curse beneath his breath and running a hand through his hair, Juza turned again and shuffled to the small kitchen. Rummaging through cabinets indiscriminately, he finally found what he was looking for; a bucket of water. Cupping the liquid in both hands, he splashed it onto his face a few times. It was only tepid, but it was sufficient to revive him more fully. Unfortunately, that was also enough to cause the crushing weariness to rush at him.

_Well, no good in that anyway. Couldn't get any sleep, too hot for it on top of anything else._

With another sigh, Juza toweled his face dry and returned to his bedroom. He selected another suit that would be less rumpled, and dressed quickly and efficiently. He stayed, sitting on the bed for another moment, closing his eyes, willing himself to sleep. But he just couldn't. And anyway, he had work to do. Slowly rising to his feet, Juza finally set off, purposefully.

Thankfully it was still very early morning. Slightly groomed or not, Juza had no intention of enduring the stares of the villagers any more than he had to. Instead he turned his mind back to the case. Detton had seemed to think that it was murder, and he had specifically seemed to think that it was murder aimed at Eddard Crane. So… either Detton was wrong or Juza was dealing with a murderer vicious enough to destroy an entire estate, regardless of whom the intended victim was. No, Juza was decidedly not looking forward to this case. Still, there was very little he could ascertain without first investigating the scene of the crime, and so he set a brisker pace, turning all non-contingent concerns from his mind.

Idly he wondered again how Elizabeth would take the news. He would have to be sure to, if not tell her himself, at least be there when she found out. He would like that very much.

---

"Sweet gods of Algo!" Juza stared numbly at the estate of the dead merchant. He'd expected that there had been some sort of fire, or something to that effect, but at least half of the estate was in crumbling ruins. Forgetting his weariness, Juza jogged the rest of the way. What could have caused devastation like that? It had been theorized that in the time before the Great Collapse, in the barely remembered utopian age of Mother Brain, that science had been so far advanced as to allow for easy destruction like this, but still…

Juza slowed his run, coming to a halt. There was a third young officer; Juza didn't presently recall his name, standing at what was left of the gateway. He waved vaguely behind him, "Um, Magistrate—"

"Not now," Juza said impatiently. "Just take me to the body."

The officer blinked. "But, uh, you should..."

"Very well, I'll find it myself." Juza eagerly pushed past the young man, his analytical abilities suddenly sharply focused on this mystery in a way they hadn't been since Elizabeth had first informed him of the impending end of their marriage. Vaguely, he thought he heard the young officer muttering something behind him, but Juza ignored it all. At last, a tangible challenge before him! What an idiot he'd been to think that he wouldn't enjoy an unusual case for once.

That was when Juza suddenly did stop, staring in surprise. He could see the broad back of an unfamiliar looking man, clearly talking to Detton. Frowning, Juza stepped forward just as the stranger was saying in a gruff voice, "And when exactly was this Magistrate of yours supposed to show up?"

"I'm not interrupting anything, I hope," Juza interposed dryly.

Detton winced slightly, but the bigger man turned with startling speed. His was a craggy face with bushy eyebrows, a moustache, and graying hair. The eyebrows knit together in a speculative look, and the bearded jaw jutted forward. "Magistrate Juza Atheon," he ventured after a moment.

Juza, for his part, was studying the man with just as much attention, though he noted the less than flattering tone of the man's statement. He certainly wasn't a local man, nor did he have the appearance of either a traveler or relative. The garb looked solid, easy to move in, but certainly defensive and the sword at the man's hip… "A hunter," he concluded grudgingly.

"Aye," said the man, even as Juza struggled to contain the blood pounding through his mind. He had never liked hunters. There was no denying that the majority of them were good fighters, if nothing else, but as far as Juza was concerned they were arrogant, high-minded, greedy amateurs.

"And what," he snapped against the tightness in his chest, "is your capacity here? I presume that Ned Crane was not your employer."

The hunter raised an ironical brow. "You mean to say you don't know?"

"I just got here," Juza returned sharply. "I can't know anything until I'm equipped with the facts of the case. Where is Crane's corpse?"

"Mm," said the hunter noncommittally. "Seeing as I got here first, I ordered your lieutenant to let me see the body. Then I sent it to the morgue."

Juza fixed the hunter with a scathing glare. The man obviously had been hired by some third party or other to look into this affair, yes, however, lawful though his commands may be, it rankled Juza no end to have some hired amateur muddling about in his affairs. "Perhaps," he said coldly, "you could accompany me to the morgue _and_ explain your stake in this matter as we go."

"Don't you want to finish inspecting the manor first?"

"Unnecessary," Juza fired back. "The scale of destruction here could only have been the result of an extraordinarily strong technique. Perhaps a combination. Or perhaps there was some object amplifying the power. As it is, it's the only logical conclusion to come to. And," he concluded smugly, pleased to be able to show the hunter a little condescension, "there's residue of technique power still in the air here. My men can handle the more mundane details."

The hunter grunted in surprise. "You're a technique user?"

Juza shrugged vaguely, setting off and not bothering to look and see if the hunter was following him. "Well, I know one or two." Despite himself, Juza couldn't help being slightly pleased at the hunter's surprise, though that wasn't very surprising in itself. Techniques, better known as techs, had been one of the only advancements of the old society to survive the Great Collapse. There were tales of an ancient power called 'magic' some inborn form of energy in the now extinct Espers. Whatever that had been… well the only people who knew were dead. Techs on the other hand were well documented. A natural phenomenon, all people had a latent ability to draw power from all of the atmosphere. To draw a little heat from the air, the ground, a fire, anything… and to release it as a burst of power. Though all people had the ability, few ever bothered to train or capitalize on it. Those that did could sense the power of techniques though, as Juza had. For the most part though, there were very few jobs that relied upon the use of techs, and most of those were hunters. Most people didn't use the ability. Most people didn't have the gift. It was another one of Juza's many good points.

The hunter had caught him up by this point. "That was the same conclusion I'd come to," he growled, easily matching Juza's stride. "Glad to see that your account tallies."

Juza glanced to his side at the man, asking, "So, what are you doing here?"

"Oh, yeah." He chuckled. "Keep forgetting that you don't know. The Guild received an urgent request in the middle of the night. Seeing that it sounded bad, and it was just in Kadary, I took the job."

Juza stifled a sigh of impatience. "Yes, but who hired you? What did they say exactly? And," he added, suddenly realizing the other gap in his knowledge, "who the bloody hell are you?"

"Polite, aren't we," muttered the hunter.

Juza rolled his eyes. "If you wanted politeness, you should have gone to the Lord Mayor. He would have told you anything you wanted to hear."

"Good thing I came to you then," the hunter countered. "Anyway, the name's Galf."

Juza stopped dead in his tracks. "Galf? As in, Galf the Thunder Sword?"

"Well don't belabor the point."

"Galf," he sputtered again, incredulously.

"You might want to close your mouth," the hunter advised. "Besides the risk that some sandworm might run down your throat, it makes you much cleverer looking."

Recovering, slightly, from his shock, Juza muttered. "Thanks." Galf, the Thunder Sword. One of the most famous and skilled hunters Juza had ever heard of. This in no measure warmed him to the man, (although if he was honest, he did appreciate the wit) but Juza supposed that if he had to investigate alongside a hunter, having one who was not only good at his job, but reputedly smart, would at least be something.

"Right," said Juza tersely. "So it must have been alarming if it drew the mighty Thunder Sword out here. Whose behalf are you acting on?"

Galf grunted. "Well I won't lie; the fee offered was very attractive too. Not that I'd care for my client if he wasn't paying me… but then, cults have never appealed to me."

For the second time, Juza halted in mid-stride. Blood rushed to his head. "Zio? You mean to say that you were hired by bloody Zio?"

Galf chuckled, his face appreciative. "I take it that Master Zio doesn't make good impressions on anyone."

Juza didn't bother to dignify that, but instead, asked the pertinent question. "_Why_?"

The craggy-faced hunter frowned. "Your men really didn't bother to make much of a report to you, did they?"

"My men probably don't even know that Zio has an interest in this case at all! It's not as though Eddard Crane was funding his church."

Galf nodded. "Fair enough. Zio hired me because he claims responsibility for the death." Galf paused, then amended, "Well, deaths."

"What?" Juza stared numbly at the hunter for approximately three seconds before registering where they were. He shook his head, wondering if he'd gotten drunker than he realized last night. "Claims responsibi…" He squinted. "My office is right here," Juza announced. "The body can wait. In here. Now. Tell me everything."

Galf looked slightly pained. "Uh, Magistrate, really wai—"

"It can wait. You're going to tell me everything."

"No, really, you see there's a—"

"Hunter, I don't care if there's a resurrection scheduled for the fabled Mother Brain! What is there to know?"

Galf tried one more time. "I just really think you should—"

"We're not going to the body now," Juza screamed. He paused for a moment, and then continued more coherently, "Hired or not, I am the local authority in this matter. Not cooperating with me would be a very bad idea."

Galf exaggeratedly threw up his arms. "I'm cooperating with you. Very well, Magistrate, lead on."

Ignoring the deliberately martyred tone, Juza strode in short order to his office, and seated himself. Taking a few deep breaths to steady his nerves, he finally remembered his courtesy. "Please, take a seat, Galf. Drink?"

"No thanks." The hunter leant back contentedly in the chair Juza had indicated. "I will say, I like your office, Magistrate. Shows more class than most of these small town ones usually do."

"Thank you," said Juza. "I try my best to insure the pleasure of all hunters passing through." That solicited a snort from the legendary Thunder Sword. "Well, shall we begin? You say that Zio hired you?"

"Yes," replied Galf, his tone finally becoming serious. "I assume you know how the system at the Guild works?" Juza nodded his assent and Galf continued, "So, a very urgent sounding missive comes in early in the morning. In fact, you're fortunate that one of our new clerks happened to be in early. The silly fool somehow locked himself in last night." Galf paused his narration long enough to shake his head and snort at the kind of man who could successfully lock himself into the Hunters Guild, and then went on. "Anyway, he panicked and tried to break out. Got the attention of some of the locals, and eventually us. When I and a few other hunters got in, he babbled about the job, so I took a look at it. I have to admit, it sounded bad and, as I said before, the fee was very handsome. So, I took it and hurried here."

Juza paused. It was all plausible, but something about the hunter's demeanor convinced the Magistrate that Galf was hiding something. Long experience at reading people wouldn't lie about this, not unless Galf was the most cleverly deceptive man in all of Algo. And given his reputation, he might well be. On the other hand, such a supposition was needlessly depressing and farfetched. And anyway, Galf didn't seem to be nervous, arrogant, or even particularly evasive. He seemed… more amused than anything else.

"That's all standard procedure," Juza finally replied sharply. "Come to the point that I'm interested in. I assume that Zio didn't actually put down exactly what he was taking responsibility for, in the job description?"

"Of course not." Galf grunted, sounding not entirely happy with his client. "Put in a message about a rather messy sounding murder. As I say, I took the job. Came here as fast as I could, and met with Zio before heading to the estate, looking at Eddard Crane's body, deciding that, malicious intent or accident, some tech of extraordinary power was the cause of destruction, and meeting up with you."

"And?" prodded Juza. "The meeting with Zio?"

Galf sighed. "He claims to know who the perpetrator of the… murder, I suppose we have to call it, was. An acolyte of Zio's own religion, a man he called Ferrio."

Ignoring all the other possible implications, Juza considered the salient point. "Ferrio… don't think I know him unless… Green hair?"

Galf nodded. "That was part of the description, yes. Green hair, tall, dark robes, really purple kind of eyes."

"Hmm." Juza drummed the hardwood desktop with his fingers. "I think I remember seeing him with Zio more often than not." He shrugged, considering the possibilities. "So, Zio claims what exactly? That one of his acolytes had a grudge against Ned Crane?"

"Zio says that Ferrio had some sort of delirious religious experience, and that he went off the deep end. Says that his tech power increased exponentially too."

Juza frowned. "If it's a religious experience, I would have thought Zio would want to cover the crime, not catch the acolyte."

"You'd be surprised, Magistrate. I've seen a lot of these cults over the years. It's perfectly in character for Zio to take such a thing as an affront. Not only is it a potential threat to his authority, a crime like that puts his whole organization at risk."

"Yes," Juza replied slowly. "He would look at it like that. And even if he didn't, it's perfectly possible for him to take a failure like this on the part of an important member of his hierarchy personally. As far as Zio is concerned, a man he trusted failed god."

"That or his purpose is hopelessly obscurely twisted."

Which was probably the point, Juza acknowledged wearily. His head had started swimming again from the lack of sleep, but his mind was still invigorated. Although, it wasn't just Zio that was at issue here, it was Galf.

Surer of himself Juza stabbed at what he thought to be the heart of the issue, "But you don't really believe that, do you?"

For just a moment, the surprise flashed across Galf's face. Then he was calm again. "I don't know," the hunter muttered. "It all adds up. Except Zio. There's something about him that…" his voice was distant. It was, thought Juza, the voice of memory. He shuddered faintly. Juza had far too many personal problems, and memories, of his own to want to know about Galf's. And anyway, if it seemed to have any relevance on the case, he could press Galf for an answer about it later.

"So," Juza surmised, "we've got one account that neatly explains how the murder was done, and maybe even why. Do you have any other angles?"

Galf shrugged, seemingly fully recovered from his momentary pensiveness. "Not really. I can think of any number of scenarios where somebody or other would want a merchant prince like Crane to die. A business rival say. Or maybe Crane was the sort that slept around." Juza's hands clenched the table to control the blood pounding through his head. "But," Galf continued, apparently oblivious, "I haven't done any of my own investigating. As you say, Zio's account is plausible enough, and he has no tangible reason to lie. At least not about the very thing he hired me for. Going off of any other possibilities… there's no evidence one way or the other."

Juza sat there silently for some moments. Finally he said, "Ned Crane did have a number of enemies, and I suppose it's possible that Zio's in collusion with one or more of them but…" He finally shook his head, fully aware of how much he wished that it was Zio. "That's thin at best. No, Zio probably gave us the honest account of this affair."

"So," said Galf, "seeing that we'll be working together, before you go off for the body, perhaps I shoul—"

The famous hunter never got a chance to finish his suggestion, however, because just then, the door to the room came flying open, and a hard cold, flashing piece of metal went flying straight by Juza.

The next thing he knew he was spinning out of his chair onto the floor. He thought he heard a shout, but he wasn't quite certain. Groaning, Juza struggled to sit up. Everything really hurt just now… though maybe that was because something had just hit him.

In the meantime, he belatedly realized that he was listening to Galf's familiar voice. "… ever think? Does he look like he could take me?" There was some sort of low, indistinct answer to the question. Galf started to snap, "Next time, if patience is beyond you then you mig…" The hunter's voice broke off, however, as Juza groaned again.

A hard, calloused hand seized Juza, dragging him to his feet. His eyes wide with shock, his mind racing along the same pointless tracks, and his body still sleep-deprived, he stared at the young woman by Galf's side, looking abashedly at the floor. She was what… he couldn't even guess in his current state. A flattering figure and long brown hair… That was when he noticed the slasher in her hand.

Galf coughed uncomfortably, his voice apologetic. "This is what I was going to mention earlier. I mean before uh… before we came here. This is my, ah, apprentice. Trainee hunter. Alys. Alys Brangwin." He coughed again, nervously rubbing his moustache. "Alys, Magistrate Juza Atheon."


	3. Chapter 3: Investigative Properties

Chapter 3:

Investigative Properties

"Hey! Wait!"

Juza didn't bother turning around or slowing his pace as the hunter's apprentice ran behind him. "I said I was sorry," she snapped, not sounding the least bit out of breath. But then, Juza reflected sourly, she wouldn't. Whatever else she might be, her mentor _was_ Galf the Thunder Sword.

"Your…" he paused for a moment struck by the minor difficulty. How should he talk about Galf to Alys? Her master? Mentor? "Your friend," he decided after another pause, "thought that you might learn something if you accompanied me. I suggest that you attend to what I do most carefully and spend a minimal amount of energy antagonizing me."

"You didn't have to agree," she shouted angrily. "If you think that I'll just be in the way—"

Juza spun about, grinding to a halt. "Alright, listen to this." He glared at her. "Galf has a legitimate business interest here; he was hired to have one. And he brought you along. Whether or not I want you anywhere, you're already involved. Secondly, it behooves local authorities and hunters to cooperate when things like this happen. Such mutual cooperation is by no means a requirement, however. There are numerous examples, all of minor disaster, when this effort was not made. It's a give and take relationship. And," he concluded coolly, "I think that Galf saw quite correctly that I would be a good deal more comfortable having you exactly where I can see you." As he concluded, Juza felt almost absurdly guilty for his tirade.

_It was for her own good,_ he reminded himself. _I have no reason to coddle the girl._ Of course, it was always true that he had no true liking for Miss Brangwin either. As far as Juza could see, she was arrogant, overeager, impatient and heedless. Still, she was also very young, what, seventeen or thereabouts? On the other hand, she had also attacked Juza back in his office, apparently believing that he'd been holding Galf or some such nonsense.

_Dammit_, he thought,_ I'm just too tired to deal with all of this. Too strained, too overextended… I don't have time for a goddamn amateur! _ Reluctant though he was to admit it, Juza knew that Galf did not, could not, fit to the standards Juza usually attached to those who held the title 'hunter.' If any hunter could be an even partner, even a useful fellow investigator, it would be Galf the Thunder Sword. _And of course, he just had to have an apprentice. Light pity me, but the gods of Algo must laugh at my pathetic existence. _A wave of self-disgust rose in Juza's throat, but it was nothing compared to the way most of the citizens of Kadary now looked at him, so he ignored it easily.

Alys in the meantime was looking at the ground, awkwardly scuffing her well-made boots together. "Sorry," she muttered at last.

"Good," Juza nodded, setting off again. "Never refuse to acknowledge a mistake. But, don't give ground unnecessarily. And find something a little more eloquent than 'sorry' for your apologies. Something that won't let every random idiot in the vicinity know that you're apologizing would be good. You don't want to seem as though you're bending over backwards."

She snorted, her face revealing a certain amount of apprehension and acceptance. "Anything else?"

"Not along anything so specific, no. You can consider that to be my life lesson to you. As for our business, as I say, attend to what I'm doing and ask questions if you have them. Otherwise, let me do the talkin…" He hesitated. "Well, maybe not. If we get around to any interviews before Galf gets back, you might as well openly solicit the arm of the Hunters Guild. People are sometimes less resistant when faced with a Hunter." He glanced at her briefly, mentally shrugging. At least she looked the part. "Try not to reveal any of your relative inexperience."

"I'm not a complete idiot," she said exasperatedly, obviously impatient with the greater portion of his advice.

"Obviously not," he responded dryly. "If you were, I wouldn't bother educating you. Instructing you, perhaps, but actually giving you advice? No. There's another lesson for you. What's not said is often more important than what is."

She opened her mouth, and then snapped it shut, perhaps biting back a report. Juza gave a mental shrug. With any luck he would be done with his duty to Galf's tiresome apprentice very shortly. They continued the walk down the dusty path, until they finally came to a nondescript, if slightly crumbling, building.

"This is the morgue," he advised her briefly, stepping up. He knocked on the door, glancing back at Alys. To his relief, she had adopted a professional posture. A small blessing. The door creaked open, and the small bloodshot eyes of Vincent Koto glared out at the two of them.

"Oh," he grunted. "Just you, magistrate. Want a look at the body, I guess."

"Thank you," said Juza, stepping deliberately past the overweight and badly dressed morgue-keeper.

"Back 'ere," muttered Vincent, retaking the lead as Alys followed behind both of them. "Figured you'd be 'round, sooner or later magistrate. Always take a look at the bodies you do, even when it's an accident."

"Very good of you to remember," Juza returned snidely. He'd never had much patience with Mr. Koto, who seemed to regard his job as an art that he was divinely placed to perform. Juza supposed that would make it easy to offend the man. Certainly it was the explanation that Juza had decided would best serve him to understand Vincent's ceaseless sullen responses to Juza's presence.

As they came to the end of the dilapidated hall, Vincent stopped in front of the door. "Very ugly," he said, almost in a pleased tone of voice.

There was no room to shoulder around him here. "And?" Juza asked impatiently.

"Unnerving you might call it," Vincent replied complacently. "Creepy even. That was what your sergeant said. 'Unnerving. Creepy.' Lots of blood too. Lot of work for me." Juza looked at the morgue-keeper askance.

"And?" he repeated. "What is your point?"

Vincent Koto frowned, looking hurt that Juza could sum up his inane commentary so callously, turning and unlocking the door. "Just sayin'," he grunted in sullen tones. "Lot of work. Even you might not like it, magistrate." He swung the door open and proceeded through it. "Very ugly," he tossed back over his shoulder, glancing significantly at Alys.

Juza nearly bit out his tongue in irritation. "What he means to say," Juza opined acidly, "is that you will probably find it unpleasant or sickening."

"I've seen… things before."

The humbleness of her tone was more surprising than the actual assertion. As a hunter's apprentice, she'd probably seen some very nasty monsters, perhaps even their victims. She was bound to, if Galf was wont to take her on jobs with him. Juza just wouldn't have expected any humility from her. Then again, a death was different. _Koto, you ass. Just playing to an audience, I suppose. _

The corpse lay on a long grey table, wrapped in a slightly bloody sheet. Juza rolled his eyes. Koto had evidently decided on a theatric touch. "We are allowed to see the body, yes?"

Vincent Koto shot him a brief, offended glance, and then swept the sheet off with a flourish. "Be'old!"

Bile immediately rose in the back of Juza's throat and he reflexively jerked his head away. "Unpleasant indeed," he coughed, recovering. He glanced back at the girl. She was staring, standing there, quite still, her eyes wide.

_Damn Koto! _ Moving deliberately in front of Alys to block her view, Juza studied the body of the late and unlamented Eddard Crane as quickly as he could. There were about ten or twelve stab marks on the body, and the head was a gory mess. The little brown mustache that Crane had cultivated was mostly intact, however, and, Juza tugged at it, genuine. That was useful for the identification. And there were also numerous… burn marks? They looked like burn marks, but not entirely… Tech wounds, perhaps?

He looked up sharply at Vincent Koto, who was smirking through his ruined brown teeth, still clearly indecently pleased at the artistic difficulty that Crane's corpse would provide him. "Are these regular burn marks or the result of a Foi tech?"

The keeper frowned, but not, for once, in offense. "Never had any of those. Foi I mean. Never had 'em. But… I'd take my oath that there's some of both, magistrate."

"Indeed," muttered Juza. "That could very well be consistent with…" He glanced back at Vincent, dropping the attack abruptly. "You used a low-level Res technique didn't you?"

Koto flinched at the accusing tone of voice. "Well… 'E was falling apart, magistrate. 'Ad to do something. I '_ad_ to. And 'e was… well, I mean, I was just cleanin' things up a little magistrate. Honest. It…" He paused, his brow wrinkling in perplexity. "I 'ad to do something."

"Koto, you blockhead, you've tampered with one of the most important pieces of evidence that we have… _for aesthetic reasons_? Is that what you're trying to tell me? You do realize that this means you'll have to come under suspicion, I hope."

"I didn't… No! I didn't do nothing to 'im! It was just to keep the body… I didn't do nothing that didn't need doing!"

"And did you ever once think? Pass a single thought through that ugly lump you call a head?"

Koto glowered at him in silence for a few moments, and then finally grunted. "Sorry. Magistrate. Didn't mean to do anything. Magistrate."

"Well, it's probably not serious," Juza admitted. "I may have some questions for you later."

"Aye. Aye, Magistrate." Sullenly, and with many a cold glance in Juza's direction, the morgue keeper escorted them back out. As Vincent Koto fumbled with the door handle he grunted again. "'Ow's your wife, magistrate?"

Juza's hand twitched. "Very well, thank you," he said coldly. "Good day." The door slammed behind them. Juza glanced at Alys. The girl seemed largely recovered.

"Well, that's that. Back to my office."

She frowned. "You mean it didn't confirm what Galf already told you?"

"No, it didn't. It indicated in Galf's direction, yes, but there was no confirmation there. Crane could have been tortured for sadistic pleasure, or for not wholly sane reasons. Or it could have been the act of a murderer trying to feign madness. Nothing is ever straightforward."

The girl was quiet for a moment, thinking about that. "Yeah," she said at last. "It's strange that there were so many different kinds of wounds. I mean, don't torturers usually get really good at one weapon before moving onto others?"

"There aren't any professional torturers anymore," he said, speeding up his pace. "But, yes, generally sadists don't go in for variety. Their imagination tends to be focused on only one subject. Variety takes too much time and focus for their tastes."

"Why did he ask about your wife?"

Juza was glad that he was in front of her, because, while he might have expected a petty gesture like that from Vincent Koto, the question coming from Alys made him flinch. "Why do you ask?"

He couldn't see, of course, but he imagined Alys shrugging. "No reason. It just seemed like a strange question coming from him. I mean, he wasn't exactly polite was he?"

"No," Juza agreed dryly, being sure to keep the irony out of his voice, "he wasn't very polite."

He risked glancing back. She was frowning, already moving on, allowing him the dodge. A little sigh of relief burst from his lips. "So…" she said slowly, "you think somebody else killed him?"

"Possibly. There is any number of plausible reasons for different people to have killed Ned Crane. There's no evidence for those scenarios though. Of course, there's no real evidence that Zio's not lying either. Was Ferrio a tech user? Only Zio's word. Admittedly, it's probably a simple case anyway, but you do have to keep in mind that there's no real evidence in any direction yet. Just indications."

Alys looked speculatively at him. "You've got a suspicious mind."

Juza was uncertain what to say to that, so he let it stand. The two walked on in silence for several minutes until they reached the familiar sight of Juza's office. He stepped in through the door nodding briefly to his receptionist. "When the hunter returns send him in right away. If Sergeant Detton comes by, you'd better let him in as well. He's handling the details of the case."

The receptionist blushed. "Um… Mr. Galf," Alys snorted loudly, "is already here. I sent him in to wait for you."

"Damn that man," Juza muttered. He had agreed to a mutually beneficial truce, yes, but that did nothing to change his opinions of hunters in general. And he didn't like Galf personally. The famous Thunder Sword was too clever by half. "Thank you, Miss Wray."

He proceeded forward, opening the door calmly. Galf was reclining in the same client's chair he had taken when Juza had first brought him to the office. The hunter lowered his feet. "Magistrate. Alys. What did you come up with?"

Juza seated himself behind his desk once more. "Examination of the body bears out your theory over all. Crane was certainly murdered. And the nature of the wounds is consistent with homicide. Still, there are other possibilities. I've mentally composed a list of the most likely suspects."

"Oh?" Galf sat up. "Now that does interest me, I confess. What have you come up with?"

"Luthor Orcis was Crane's main business rival. Depending on the circumstances, he might very easily have a motive to kill Crane. Numerous members of the Council have, I suspect illegal ties to Crane. Whether it would be in the nature of blackmail or just covering up, anyone of them might have done it… though Stefan, the treasurer, is most likely."

"Mmm." Galf settled back down, tugging reflectively at his mustache. "As it happens, I did some poking around of my own while you were busy. Looking for any other possibilities that were borne out by the order of events. Came up with some interesting results. Heard about Orcis, for example." Galf sat there silently for some moments, and just as Juza started to open his mouth, the hunter continued. "It's just possible that that one did it. There's one period of time in the evening, at a party I gather, where his presence is unaccounted for. Given Crane's own movements, he could have done it. Very narrow though. Stefan on the other hand has a rock-solid alibi. Although apparently the Lord Mayor doesn't. Couldn't find any definite motives there, but the sentiment seems to be that he's slimy enough." Galf cleared his throat significantly. "And then, of course, there's you."

A lump formed in his chest. "Me." The word sounded weak, even to Juza. "And… what motive did you discover to… implicate me?"

Galf grinned. "As to that I couldn't say. Nobody wanted to talk about it. Picked up a general sense though. It's a personal motive, I believe?"

"I…" His throat was dry. "Yes. I don't have an alibi. I left the Lord Mayor's party early… before almost anyone else I believe. I was in my house the whole time, though that can't be proven of course. No witnesses."

Galf's eyes were intent. "Could you, perhaps, be a bit more specific? This is a murder, after all."

"It… it's well known," Juza croaked, "that Ned Crane and I disliked each other." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. How could he explain? "I… there was… sh…" He sighed. "I didn't kill him," Juza said finally. "Much as I would have wanted to. I didn't kill him. And I had… even with that, even with her, I had other concerns. If I was to lose control, Galf, and murder somebody, I swear to you that the first victim would have been bloody Zio."

Galf raised an eyebrow. "That's it, then? A w—"

"That's it," Alys exclaimed abruptly, breaking into the conversation for the first time. "That's what he meant when he asked about your wi—"

Galf broke back in, "_Who_ asked about this?"

Juza's arms slammed down on his desk, startling them to silence. He rose, red faced in rage and embarrassment. "Very bloody well," he snarled. "I have reason to believe… well," he amended grudgingly, "to suspect that Ned Crane was… that he and… I have reason to suspect that Ned Crane was having an affair with my wife." He glared at the two of them, wondering which would speak first.

"Mm," said Galf noncommittally. "If you don't mind my asking, what reasons were these?"

"I do mind," Juza muttered. He sat back down. "But this is a murder, you're right. My personal feelings are irrelevant. I should have told you when you first came." He sighed, calming only slightly. "My wife wants a divorce, and she's yet to give me a real reason why. My own observations indicated Eddard bloody Crane."

Galf coughed loudly. "Far be it from me to suggest that there may be other interpretations in that."

"Oh really? Do you now presume to lecture me about women, oh mighty Thunder Sword?"

Galf shook his head disapprovingly. "Advice about women? I'll let you know when I have some, Magistrate."

Despite himself, Juza chuckled. "Well there you have it. Motive and opportunity for me. And of course, I am a tech user."

Galf tugged his mustache. "I'll be sure to keep all that in mind."

"As I take it that you don't plan on curtailing my activities… yet, I suggest we proceed to interview the other principal suspects. Luthor Orcis and Mayor Argus Gray."

Galf nodded. "Sounds reasonable. What'll you do, summon 'em here?"

"That would be counter-productive. Men are oft more unnerved when the law invites itself to their home than the other way around. We'll call on our suspects at their own residences."

"Aye." The big hunter stood. "You do of course realize that I don't trust you enough to let you out of my sight for the time being?"

"I'd expect no less." Juza also rose to his feet. "And anyway, this isn't just my investigation anymore. It's _our_ bloody bit of business."

Galf smiled for a moment. "Curious kind of partner to have. A potential murderer."

Alys exploded out of the background, "What about that creep back at the morgue," she shouted at Juza. "And anyway, I'm—"

"What creep at the morgue?" Galf's eyes flitted lazily over to his apprentice.

Alys flushed. "Sorry," she mumbled. "Mr. Koto, wasn't it?" She looked at Juza for affirmation. "The magistrate practically accused him."

"It wasn't a serious accusation, miss." Juza shook his head. "I admitted as much. You knew that."

Galf went over to her and dropped to one knee. "You'll have to learn some patience some day," he told her gently. "And you'll have to learn to let go of me someday too."

Alys flushed, but, uncharacteristically to Juza's mind, remained silent. Then again, she'd just been embarrassed in front of a virtual stranger. Doubtless if Juza hadn't become used to it over the past few days he'd have preferred to slink back into the background as well. Now, however, there was business to attend to.

---

"I was wondering when you would pay me this little visit, Magistrate." Luthor Orcis was every bit as elegant and disdainful as his dead rival, though noticeably less handsome. _No wonder Elizabeth chose bloody Crane. _

The merchant in the meantime was addressing Galf. "And a hunter I see. My name, as you doubtless know is Luthor Orcis." He sat back down. "Drink or some other refreshment? No?" He crossed his legs. "Well, what can I do for you, gentlemen?"

Juza, having no stomach for fencing like this, leant forward. "Perhaps you could describe your movements on the night of party."

"Ah, yes. I arrived later than you, of course, Magistrate. You should remember that. And I stayed the whole of the evening, leaving very late. Parker should be able to attest to that. Perhaps two or three other people."

"You were at the party the whole time?"

Orcis smiled disdainfully. "Ah. You're referring to the famous ten minutes or so that I stepped off into the garden? Well, it's true; I don't have an alibi for that."

Juza paused for a moment. He hadn't expected Luthor Orcis to be caught off guard, but he was nonetheless at something of a loss at how to proceed. The pertinent questions were unfortunately vague, and Ferrio was already a perfectly good lead… "Are you a tech user?"

"No. Should I become one?"

Juza glared, loathing his mockery. Galf spoke quietly into the momentary pause, "Not quite true. You're a collector, aren't you?"

"I… yes, that is I am. I do collect various things, objects of power amongst them." It had been an admirable recovery, but Juza had seen the momentary little shock on Luthor's part, the momentary flash of uncertainty.

He leant further forward certain that there was something here now. Either Luthor Orcis had not expected an intelligent question from the hunter, or there was something here. "And could one of these objects have caused the devastation of Eddard Crane's estate?"

"Y…" The merchant prince seemed to be considering his answer. "Yes," he finally said. "I do possess an object that could do that, but, I do not currently actually possess it. For certain… negotiable purposes I lent it to Lord Zio. A focus gem."

Juza frowned, genuinely startled. If Orcis was telling the truth, then that seemed to implicate Zio again. And yet, Zio either had no motive, or it was hopelessly abstruse. On the other hand, Orcis _could_ be lying. _Or could they be working together? If Orcis promised to support Zio with meseta in exchange for murdering Crane… _

Luthor Orcis coughed uncomfortably and re-crossed his legs. "How is your wife, Magistrate? Good, I should hope?"

_Gods of Algo, is everyone going to ask that now? _"Elizabeth is quite well, thank you," Juza lied. He stood. "I think that that is all for now, but we may have more questions for you later, Luthor."

Luthor Orcis stood as well, pacing over to a window. He stood there with his back to the three of them, Galf, Alys and Juza. "You see this room," Orcis said abruptly, sweeping his hand out. "This house. I built all of what I had… I know you distrust me, Magistrate, but I used my talents as I could to build a better life for myself, one of wealth and privilege. There was no one…" he paused, his voice thickening with hatred momentarily. "No one," he repeated, "that I hated more than Ned Crane. He fought against everything I ever tried to procure for myself… and he born to a good family." Luthor Orcis turned back around to face them, and the sunlight flowed in through the room framing the merchant prince. For one moment, he appeared almost as a god. "And yet, why should I kill him now? I'm sure you have the information Magistrate but… if you will permit me a small obscenity; I had just gotten Crane's balls in the palm of my hand. I might have settled for killing him before, but now? I had that bastard. I _had _him. I could cut him out of his own deals." Orcis's hand curled up into a fist. "And all I had to do was squeeze. And then he got himself killed. You can't imagine how much I hate him for that." Luthor Orcis paused abruptly, and tensed even as his face stilled. "Well, I did not kill him. You may take that for a statement from me, should you need one."

The merchant's manner became distant and he escorted them back out into the street, after asking again if they would care for any refreshment.

"Well," Galf remarked, stepping off briskly, "that was worthwhile. I'd say he was telling the truth. You, Magistrate?"

Juza considered for a moment before answering. "I should like to believe him," he decided at last. "After all, nothing would please me more than to finally catch one of my own colleagues up to something like this. Not even pinning something on Luthor Orcis. But do I actually believe him?" Juza nodded slowly. "I think I do. He had to… control himself as he brought his statement to a close. Not in the way of a liar trying to stay within the realms of plausibility, but as a man genuinely overcome by raw emotion." _Raw hatred. Much as myself…_ Juza's thoughts had turned so black over the last several days, and he was so tired. _When did I last sleep? And yet, this demands attention…_

Sagging slightly, he asked, "And for that matter, why don't you suspect me?"

Galf looked straight ahead. "Much for the same reasons you just named yourself, Magistrate."

"There goes my faith in the order of Algo," Juza muttered disgustedly.

Alys interjected rather pointedly back into the conversation. "What are we going to do now? See the Mayor?"

"That would probably be best," Juza agreed. "So long as we get that interview over with quickly enough we can still talk to Zio, get a lead on Ferrio perhaps…" He paused, considering that. Should he perhaps try to multitask, send Galf to see to Argus while he talked with Zio? "It might be worth the trying," he muttered.

Galf glanced back over his shoulder. "Magistrate?"

"_Juza!_"

Despite himself, Magistrate Juza Atheon, Councilor of Kadary, flinched at the shout. He knew that voice… _Magistrate, yes. That's what I bloody well am. That's what I need to be. Magistrate… Magistrate… not Juza. I can't go back to then… it needs to stay before now. It needs to not be then, to stay before now where it was… Magistrate. _

"Juza," Elizabeth shouted again, running towards him. Juza's mouth went dry anew at the sight of her beauty.

Hands twitching, blood pounding through his head, each thought increasingly dark, he managed, "Elizabeth."

"Juza," she gasped, throwing her arms around him, her face pale. "They said… it's a murder investigation. And I knew that you were, were distressed…" Somewhere in the background, Juza heard Galf cough discreetly.

Juza stepped back from her; not willing to trust himself to even be hugged by her… his logic might relent. He could not have emotional motives. He did not. "You mean to say you don't know? Ned Crane is dead."

"Crane," she repeated, sounding taken aback. "Oh, but I thought… Gods of Algo." She took a step backwards, seemingly relaxing a bit.

Juza frowned. "I would have thought that Eddard Crane's death would have concerned you a bit more than that, my dear." Unable to resist, he injected volumes of sarcasm into 'my dear.'

Elizabeth looked straight up, her red hair coiling a little as she did so. "_Crane_," she said in a voice that was equal parts disgust, hurt, and disbelief. "You thought that I… that Ned Crane was…" Her face contorted.

"Yes, your lover," snapped Juza. "There was ample enough evidence."

"I didn't even like Ned Crane," she shot back at him, anger warming her own tones. "I came here because I was worried about you!"

Juza's mouth twitched. "You have made things somewhat difficult for me, but that is as it is. The fact is that we have little to discuss. The legal proceedings will proceed, once I am not entangled in an investigation. Aside from that…" he shrugged, the dark bitterness only barely kept in check. "Our affairs were only ever of a practical nature. If needs be, I shall make other alliances."

"Juza, it's not like that. I…" she gestured helplessly. "You were… you're not that cold."

"You mistake logic for coldness," he said, coldly.

"It's not about… Juza, it's not because of you. It's men."

His mouth twitched again, the weariness threatening to rush upon him again. "It really is irrelevant what it is," he told her, strangling the surge of raw emotion that raised its head at that ugly implication… "The larger alliance between us has clearly failed. I grant, we may examine other possibilities in the future."

And with that, he stepped passed her, wishing that the beat of his heart would slow. _Bitch_, he thought resentfully. _Were it not for you, my influence… were it not for you, my focus would be mine. If not for you… _

Her voice sounded behind him. "I came because I thought… I thought you were up against Zio." Juza staggered slightly, but did not turn back. If he turned back, if he had emotional reasons, if he lost his focus… She did not speak again.

Juza wasn't certain how long it was before he noticed Galf and Alys walking silently along with him. Taking a deep breath, he muttered, "Lord Mayor Argus can wait. We're getting this over with. We'll…" his lips twisted in distaste. "We'll work with bloody Zio."


	4. Chapter 4: Duty

Chapter 4

Duty

It was a surprisingly austere interior. Juza had made it a point never to have visited Zio's church, but, even he had to grudgingly admit that there was some artistry to it. A muted sort of elegance and grandeur, and, most surprising of all, it was not a cheap effect either. The marble that Zio had built much of it with alone must have cost a fortune… _Aye and Ned Crane had the means… Luthor Orcis too for that matter. Probably most on the Council…_

Alys was looking around the red-carpeted spacious building with rather more distaste than Juza himself. "I don't like it here," she declared.

"I imagine none of us do," Juza muttered, fidgeting nervously. He was still exhausted, but his nervous energy refused to leave him. If only there was time to catch a few hours of sleep… But he was on the trail of a psychotic, and he could not lose sight of that. _And if I went back to the house, I might have to face Elizabeth again. _The lack of rest hit him crushingly for a moment, as he struggled to control his grinding anger.

"Master Galf, Miss Brangwin." Juza's eyes snapped back up as Zio stepped forward, smiling, "Magistrate, my friend." He was flanked by two acolytes dressed in hooded robes. Zio made a brief gesture, placing his forefinger against his unnaturally pale forehead. "Night is always coming," he said, in the ritualistic greeting of his cult

"Yes," Juza muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Yes, it is." He shook his head slightly, well aware both of the need that all of the others would have of his focus if he was to do his job, and his slipping self-control. "And then his grip began to slip," Juza murmured to himself.

"Magistrate?"

For one moment, Juza thought that it was Zio's pernicious tones speaking to him… but it was only Galf. "Nothing," he said shortly. "Merely a rhyme I was once taught." He put a hand through his hair, only to discover that it was completely frazzled and unkempt. _Well, and who gives a damn? _He cleared his throat loudly, suddenly unaccountably reminded of the two boys he had disciplined… was it only yesterday? _Gods of Algo be good, and I was already tired and maudlin then…_ His failing strength was something that he could not share with this company, however. It was more truth than was needful. Dangerous, harmful truth. Indeed, it would be better all around to get this business finished with and to do so quickly at that.

Zio had already stepped into the long silence, though. "I confess myself relieved to finally be receiving your attention, Magistrate. I fear I can only blame myself at this dreadful turn in Ferrio's destiny…"

Eyeing the priest with something less than favor, Juza muttered, "You still might." He dropped the attack abruptly. "Ferrio was your favored, acolyte, always with you, always at your side… I find it passing queer that he should be our man, at this juncture."

Zio spread his hands, his voice cajoling if not quite warm. "Come, Magistrate. These are your laws, and this is your village. You may do as you wish, of course, but what can you possibly be accusing me of? Ferrio was a brother of mine in the eyes of god; even brothers may be permitted to disagree from time to time. Nonetheless, to even imply that I would personally…" Zio shook his head, his voice taking on that same hypnotic quality that he had used in sparring with Juza at the party. "Still, I know you for a just man, Magistrate. You are merely voicing the possibility, as is your duty, I am sure."

For a long hot moment, Juza stared at this man, reasonable, courteous thoughtful, and he could still here Zio's words echoing in his ears. _We are not so different, you and I…_ Juza shook his head numbly. It was not true. They were not the same, not now, not ever. _And how is your charming wife? _That was it that raw malice in Zio's tone, concealed beneath his mask of geniality! But even that was not true. That question had not been asked in malice… _Why bloody ask if not to taunt me? _A worse thought occurred to him. _Or is it Elizabeth's malice, her enjoyment of my helplessness…_ Abruptly Juza became aware of Zio's eyes on him again. _No, none of it. He is… testing me. _

A loud cough broke the silence, recalling Juza to himself. "I…" realizing that nobody had yet spoken, Juza masked his involuntary pronoun with a cough. "We do have several questions for you, yes," he said, belatedly realizing that he had let a silence open up. _I do that too often now. I need focus. _

Zio's eyes glowed with an intensity Juza had never seen in them before. For the first time, he thought he might have some inkling as to how Zio had won over a following so easily. "I accept full blame for this dreadful catastrophe," he murmured, bowing his head. "But Ferrio must be stopped. He is a good man a… a _holy _man, but he no longer knows himself. His mind is gone. We must move swiftly before any greater tragedy can occur. Ferrio's abilities to cause destruction are great… but I believe that I know where he will be."

Juza frowned. "Perhaps after some few other questions, we may entertain such a notion."

"Ah." Zio sounded almost satisfied. "So it is Kadary."

"Lord Zio, if you have a statement to make, then best make one. Else, you are wasting our time."

Zio's eyes challenged him. "Have you already forgotten, Magistrate? It is _Kadary_ that you serve, Kadary that love better than justice, than yourself… better, even, than your wife, I think. It is Kadary you seek to preserve by asking for more time… whilst Ferrio may slay even more innocent souls."

Juza stared at the priest for a long moment, his tongue twisted in rage. How dare Zio presume to try to read him at a juncture like this! "Ned Crane was many things," he said at last, seeking to avoid appearing at a loss, "but innocent was not one of them."

"Eddard Crane was a righteous and just man."

Juza clenched his hands so hard he could feel his knuckles whitening. "Ned Crane," he began hotly, only to have his voice drowned out in a thunderous roar.

"_Enough!_" Galf the Thunder Sword stood there, glaring at both of them. "Neither of you serves any purpose with this wrangling. You can compare cocks later if you have to, but now we do have to keep our work in mind."

Juza bristled, but the moment had served to restore him to his better senses. "If you would excuse me for a moment, Lord Zio." He stepped forward, briefly taking hold of Alys's arm, muttering to her, "If he tries anything, stop him."

He came up to Galf, pulling the hunter to the side. "I beg you to remember that this is my investigation. What are you attempting here, encouraging a suspect when we—"

Galf looked at him very levelly, and Juza's words died in his throat. There was the slightest touch of contempt in the bigger man's eyes. "Magistrate," he said quietly, "you're tired and obviously falling apart a bit. That's no reason to be deliberately obtuse. I'm not telling you we have to trust Zio, but I am telling you that his proposal makes good sense and that you know it." The hunter shrugged, tugging at his moustache as he added, "And anyway, I wouldn't think you'd want to show all this to us."

Juza flushed. Beneath the seeming wisdom, the seeming genuine friendliness that Galf was projecting, he could still feel that contempt. _Small. Aye, he thinks me a small man, weak and petty. _ Wetting his lips, Juza forced the words hoarsely from his throat. "And… if he's lying?"

"If he's lying, this is the surest way to discover it. And tell me honestly, Magistrate, what do you think Zio could hope to gain from such a deception? We've failed to establish a link between him and Crane, and if he's wrong now, that makes him look guilty, guilty as hell."

Juza nearly spoke then of his other vaguely realized suspicions, but something made him hold back. _Aye, there are others that Zio could be doing this for. But look at him. Big aye, clearly talented with that blade, and yet…_ But there were some suspicions a man dared not speak aloud, some confidences a man must keep to himself. "Aye." The word came out, a grudging rasp. "Aye," he said again, forcing it out. "You make a good point. But… a moment more, I beg you."

Galf shrugged. "You do have authority here, Magistrate. I only ask that you do not allow your good sense to be swayed by… other things."

With a sigh, Juza put a hand through his hair again. The Thunder Sword had a point, that much was undeniable. Nevertheless, Juza was beginning to have doubts. There were coils upon coils in this business. At first, it had seemed relatively straightforward, but the more he investigated… _It is simple, by all accounts. There are at least a dozen individuals who have had ample reason over the years to have murdered Ned Crane. And yet, this investigation bears little fruit… except for Zio's handpicked tale. _

Alys was looking uncertainly at him, but Zio remained ramrod straight, his face contrite. "You will describe to us in some more detail what transpired to make Ferrio… how did you say it, forget himself?"

Zio nodded his arrogant head ever so slightly, the corners of his mouth curling up, as though in rueful admiration of the question. But then, Juza reflected, Zio had always seemed to regard their conversations as a game of some sort, a matter of moves. For that matter, Juza himself was accustomed to think in such terms. Cynical, perhaps, but logical of certainty.

"As you wish, Magistrate." The priest managed to inject his tone was the slightest bit of reproach as if to say: _magistrate or no, who are you to waste this time?_ "Ferrio and I had been attempting to best interpret a prophecy of god—don't worry my friend, I won't bore you with the details—and in the course of the conversation he grew somewhat agitated. He wished to consult god on a higher level, and I agreed." Zio paused, shaking his head. "I shall always blame myself for that. I had but recently acquired a focus gem from Luthor Orcis, and I consented to use it in a holy ritual. It was too much, and it broke Ferrio's mind."

Juza frowned. Did Zio honestly expect him to believe all of this nonsense about arcane rituals? And, alright, even assuming it was true, which it could be after all, why would Zio's most favored acolyte prove to be so weak-minded? "What precisely do you mean by 'acquired?'"

He had hoped that the abrupt and seemingly insignificant question would startle Zio, but he was disappointed. The priest was unruffled as ever. "Luthor was good enough to lend it to me. Forgive me for my careless choice of words."

Juza hesitated. He had no real way of verifying the truthfulness of any of Zio's comments without further backup, and as for the Thunder Sword… "You make a good point, Lord Zio," he admitted grudgingly. "Given the circumstances, we have no true recourse but to hear out your suggestion to the fullest."

"Ah." The syllable was curiously flat. "I believe that Ferrio will make for the caves outside of Kadary, in the path to Aiedo. It would be in keeping with his interpretations of various passages of our holy texts."

Juza twisted his lips for a moment, considering the prospect. He didn't want to go stumbling out in the sands at night with Zio of all people, and there was always the risk of a monster attack… _Galf and the girl are talented fighters though. I myself have a propensity for techs…_ Yes, he decided abruptly. He would do it. Galf had made a shrewd point; Zio had every reason to cooperate with them. If he was wrong, he had a lot to lose.

"Ah, very good, gentlemen, very good." Juza turned sharply, hardly believing his ears. There stood Lord Mayor Argus Gray. Juza took a long moment to strangle his less than courteous impulses. He had to remember what was at stake, where he was. He had to remember what he was dealing with.

"Lord Mayor," said Galf politely, even as Zio inclined his head, again touching his forefinger to his forehead. "To what do we owe this unexpected pleasure?"

Argus glanced at Galf, his gaze clearly dismissing the hunter as beneath him. Juza clenched his hands, only belatedly remembering that he himself had scant love for hunters. _That is different. My objection is professional, while his…_ The Lord Mayor in the meantime was looking Alys up and down, though he at least had the grace to pretend that his attention was focused elsewhere.

Juza took a deep steadying breath. "Indeed, the question is well put. What may we do for you, Argus?"

The Lord Mayor shot him a brief offended glance at the deliberate dropping of his title, before spreading his hands, a martyred expression on his face. "Why, this is a great affair of Kadary. I feel well within my rights to join in and see this thing through its duration. I am the head of the council, am I not?"

Rage misted his vision, choked up his throat. _You bastard, I see what this is. You want to be on hand, you want to see to it that I am in whatever way you deem necessary properly taken care of, you…_ "These matters are not in your jurisdiction." It was a masterful effort, but Juza could feel it even as the words left his throat. He had not quite managed to strangle the raw animal emotion in his voice.

"Come, Juza," said Argus, his voice cajolingly smug. "All affairs may be of interest to a Lord Mayor, as you well know. I ask only that you allow me to do my duty; surely that is not too much to request."

His nostrils flared. Beckoning to the Lord Mayor with one finger he said vaguely, "If you would excuse us for a moment."

Seizing his portly colleague by the shoulder and pulling him off a short distance, Juza said roughly, "I do not require your presence."

Argus looked at him, toning his smugness with contempt. "It is not a question of what you require, Juza. I have asserted my lawful right to be involved in these proceedings. You of all people should have to respect that, or what are you ranting diatribes of law in the council supposed to represent?"

"I will not suffer your presence simply because you seek to—"

"—Or perhaps," Argus cut in smoothly, his smug air imperturbable; "you merely have other things on your mind." The Mayor's eyes drifted down Juza's person, lingering on the rumpled hair and nearly ravaged face. "Let there be no more nonsense of this sort, Juza, you can't win this battle and you know it." Juza's tongue felt clumsy in his hot rage. With a smile of pure pride, the Mayor slid an arm around Juza's shoulders. "Good fellow, good fellow. You know I'm right here. Tell me, incidentally, how is that charming wife of yours?"

Juza tore out of his grasp as though he'd been burned. "Elizabeth is quite well," he snarled, his fury barely contained.

One of Argus's eyebrows rose fractionally. "Indeed? I only asked because I was concerned. I encountered her on your doorstep on my way here and the dear lady seemed quite upset. I am relieved to be… proven wrong."

Juza would have flushed under any other circumstance, but he was past caring about whatever Argus had to say at this point. "If you are joining us, my Lord Mayor," he said hoarsely, "then we will be advised to begin at once."

He turned away, snapping bad-temperedly to the rest, "Lord Zio will show us the way to where we wish to go now."

Galf stepped forward, frowning through his bushy moustache. "Certainly if… if that is your command, Magistrate, but I…"

Juza tensed. "I do not require any more of your advice, sir," he said, mustering such courtesy as he had left in him.

Galf tugged at his beard, still frowning. "Magistrate, I think we—"

"_I do not require your help,_" Juza screamed at him. Alys was staring at him, her mouth open, and somehow, that was worse than all the rest. "And tell your bloody amateur that she is not required either," he snarled, turning roughly forward. He heard the small disbelieving sound behind him, but Juza did not turn.

He was making a spectacle of himself, he knew, but he couldn't help it and he was past caring anyway. There was another long moment of tension in the air, and then Juza said roughly, summoning as much grace as he could, "We should go now." He was dammed if he was going to bend over apologizing to every single person for every single thing.

_That_, he thought disgustedly, _was where my troubles began. Elizabeth didn't care for my reason, now did she? For my… apologies. _The grinding anger was still there beneath everything, but, for once, Juza saw no point in concealing it. All of the ones present already knew of it, after all. He followed sullenly after Zio, resolving not to talk to Galf, to Alys, even to Argus.

_Bloody Zio…_ gazing at the man's black cloak, it suddenly dawned on Juza why he had always blamed Zio for his troubles, even though Zio had been the soul of courtesy, always. _Of course, it was then that my influence started to go. Kadary was willing to forgive me for failing the minor things, but I went against Council on Zio as I had to. As any sane bloody fool would have done, and I failed. They saw that… and then it didn't help with Elizabeth…no. _He would not think of Elizabeth.

It was a hot night, and Juza found that as they continued walking on, mostly in silence, that a little bit of his self-control was returning to him. He was almost ashamed of his outburst earlier… oh, what was the point of mincing language? He was ashamed of what he'd said to Galf and Alys at any rate. And as for the Lord Mayor… oh yes, there he regretted his outburst. _I forgot the first bloody rule of the bloody council; never show your hand too plainly…he knows that I suspect him of the murder. And why else join us this way? He wants to be on hand, also probably wants to see to it that I fail… and when he does, he'll take some sort of evidence of my incompetence back to the Council. _Was it really so much to believe? If Juza was in Argus's position and had a similar lack of regard for scruple, he'd do much the same!

And, he admitted grudgingly, Argus was not a complete idiot. He was little better than scum, but he was not a fool. _Zio fits in well enough anyway. Galf was wrong about the lack of a connection with Crane meaning anything; Zio exists in Kadary by the sufferance of the Council. He would do what anyone with money and connections asked him in return for a more permanent arrangement… and blame poor Ferrio for it. And Galf, even… _

He glanced at the big hunter, wondering. It had never truly occurred to Juza to question the man's presence here, but where was the corroborating evidence that the big man truly was the famous Thunder Sword? Anyone skilled with a sword could make himself up as a hunter, and Alys could be a plant as well… _Still, it is farfetched. I mustn't lose sight of perspective…_Stumbling in the sand, Juza uttered a mild curse. His mind's exhaustion was starting to catch up to his physical weariness. _Well, that was my own bloody fault. _

What was the point of it all anyway? Who gave a damn whether or not Kadary remained just? Why did any of it really matter anymore? Perhaps it was the Argus's and the Crane's of the world who had gotten it right. If an action derived logical benefit for whatever one's goal was, then why not just pursue it? Why get caught up in ethics and responsibility and inflict willing agony on oneself? _It's bloody hot and it's bloody cold and why should I give a damn? But I do. Sweet light, the gods of Algo must have inflicted me as a joke on the world._

"We have arrived," declared Zio. "Or near enough. I must warn you that Ferrio will most like be dangerous, and very powerful. We should approach with all due caution."

A hysterical laugh rose in the back of Juza's throat, but he choked it down. _Most like? Isn't that rich. I saw what he bloody well did to Ned Crane and he's 'most like to be dangerous?' _

Galf in the meantime was asking quietly, "I suppose that there's no chance he'll come quietly?"

For the first time that Juza could remember, Zio hesitated. "I… no. That's too much to hope for. Ferrio's mind, it is gone. He will only know animal pain and fear. I merely ask that you do not let him suffer. I blame myself. Ferrio did not deserve this."

Galf shrugged his voice empty of inflection. "The way he made Eddard Crane suffer?" The hunter shrugged a second time. "Well, this is what you hired me to do. I'll take him down as cleanly as I can." The big man turned a speculative glance on the curiously assembled little group. "Well," he said awkwardly, "I'll use every bit of advantage I can get. We'll want to fan out and converge on him at once, all of us with any kind of fighting ability. I'll take the front; Alys can take that dune a bit to the right." His eye rested embarrassedly on Argus for a moment. "I don't recommend that you come into this, Lord Mayor I assure you. And… Magistrate…" he cleared his throat loudly, obviously uncomfortable.

"I'll…" Juza cleared his throat too. "I'll fight. I have some knowledge of a knife, and I can use some techs." He added, suddenly contrite, "I am sorry you know."

Galf looked at him roughly for a moment, and then turned away. "You can have the left then." He took a deep breath. "In that case, we'll begin."

"Hold." Zio stepped forward, paler than ever in the moonlight. There were tears in his eyes, but that, Juza thought disgustedly, that was just cheap theatricality. "I too, shall join you in this. I brought this to Ferrio, and I knew him well. Could I do any less for him than you now propose to do? And I have knowledge of power."

Galf frowned. "No. You're my employer. I'm supposed to protect you if things go wrong; I won't put you on the front lines when there's a way around it."

"And you propose to challenge Ferrio with only three? Forgive me if I am blunt, Master Galf, but that is foolhardy if you have another resource on hand. You are a famed warrior, but it is with your blade you gain that reputation and Miss Brangwin is largely untried." Alys sputtered furiously, but had the sense not to interrupt. "My good friend, the Magistrate, is proficient at techs, but Ferrio's ability in that way is exponential. My expertise in such a field may well be the key to your salvation."

"You don't understand the ethics of this situation! I cannot, in good conscience, permit this."

"And yet," said Zio quietly, "I make a good point, do I not? Perhaps you will allow me to join you in bad conscience then?"

Juza's hands twitched. He did not want Zio at his side in any sort of battle, and yet… "Oh let him join us, Galf," he said abruptly. "It's not worth the debating and there is a certain logic to it."

Galf let out an explosive sigh. "Very well. Master Zio, will you consent to join me then, in the center? Tactically, it'll be more advantageous and I can best protect you that way."

"Of course, I shall bow to your prowess in this area."

Juza snorted. He doubted that Zio had ever bowed to anything in his life. _Still, I must admit, his posturing is good. I'd be inclined to believe him myself if I didn't know better. _

In short order he was creeping his way around the dune, supposedly ready to charge up and duel a mad acolyte at the convergence of the others. Slipping in the sand, Juza found that he was remembering the good times, earlier in his marriage. _When I tried to explain to Elizabeth just why it was we should marry, why she should carefully consider my proposal, the logical necessity of it… she laughed at me then, and I didn't care. I still don't. Well, when she laughs at it, anyway. I never did. And she always laughed at me or… or found something to smile at whenever I spoke in such terms. Was it only my cynicism she found amusing, or was there something else behind it? _ Juza didn't suppose he'd ever know the answer to that.

Hearing the shouts, he stumbled up the dune, his hand suddenly sweaty around the knife he always carried with him. Cresting the top of the dune, Juza abruptly lost his balance, sliding down and tumbling into the back of a capering figure. Scrambling upright, Juza froze in surprise, staring at the man they'd found. Ferrio was dancing about, jerking his arms wildly, his green hair matted, the robe he wore filthy and torn. No, there could be no doubt of it; this was Ferrio and he _was _mad.

Juza abruptly realized that also, Ferrio had taken no notice of him… following the gaze of the blazing purple eyes, he saw Galf jerking about in rough approximations of Ferrio's arm movements. Scarcely believing it, Juza seized the knife he had let fall from his hand, coming forward to stab the man, put an end to it… A hand suddenly took him in the face, and the slap had the force of a fist. Juza crumpled into sands. Rising weakly, he noticed, rather inanely, the flask of half finished wine and the scraps of food lying just outside the entrance of the cave.

A harsh shriek pierced his senses. Juza's eyes snapped forward, and realized that Ferrio was clutching his right arm and it was bleeding. He also caught sight of Alys Brangwin dashing in, a slasher returning to her hand…

_She saved Galf. _His fist closed around the knife hilt more firmly. _As I failed to do. _Juza set his chin determinedly, as he sprinted forward. He would not prove a craven even if this was not his field of expertise.

Even as he reached the man, Ferrio jerked backward, tears running down his face, nothing but fear in his luminous purple eyes. With a cry, he lifted his right forefinger, even as some powerful energy burst past Juza.

He felt it before his eyes really took it in. A vastly powerful, raw, vicious running sort of power… It was a beam of pure darkness. The effect, however, felt curiously understated to Juza somehow. It was the same quality as his thoughts had often turned in over the past few days…

The energy (coming from Zio, he vaguely noted) slammed straight into Ferrio, striking the acolyte down to the sands. But from Ferrio's own hand, a thin streaking burst of energy… no, a foi tech, Juza realized in surprise, was running off into space even as Ferrio fell.

Juza turned and looked, uncomprehending for a moment at the last, futile path of Ferrio's extraordinary technique. The energy, he could see even from this far off, smashed into a roof in Kadary… Feeling somehow numb he realized _that's my house…_ And then the second, more pertinent realization came to him.

"No," he gasped, his voice hoarse and croaking. "No. I didn't…" _Elizabeth… Argus met her going back to the house…_ He did not want her to die, much as he hated her, he had never wanted her to die. But even as he grasped at every thought he could muster, Juza could feel the very real sense of agonizing loss beneath it all. _I still don't want to lose her…_

"No," he gasped again, sinking to his knees, shaking wildly. "Didn't want… logic…" his voice broke, and he vaguely realized he was crying. "Logic," he croaked miserably. "Supposed to stop this… not supposed to feel this!" Trembling with emotions that he couldn't even name, Juza scrambled blindly forward. A heavy hand clapped itself on his shoulder.

"Juza," he heard the voice of Galf say, but Juza pulled away in desperation.

"WAT," he screamed, feeling the ice-cold power of the technique coursing through him, flowing back at Galf. The hunter cursed loudly, his grip on Juza relaxing. The magistrate dashed forward, desperate, he had to get there, he had to…

Argus emerged from the top of a sand dune, rushing towards him, his arms thrown out. "Come Juza, listen to some sense…"

"You," howled Juza, flinging himself forward at Argus, scrabbling for his knife. _It was your fault, you'd seen her, and you told me you'd seen her, everything…_

Argus gave vent to a hoarse cry, jerking backwards, but it was no good. Juza was faster and more fit anyhow. He had always been faster. "Elizabeth," he gasped, his hands trembling at Argus's throat, even as the Lord Mayor's struggles lessened… A heavy blow took Juza at the back of his head and the world turned black.

---

Galf was very quiet, walking quietly away through the sands. Alys herself felt more than a little discomfort at how this commission had turned out, and even though Galf was generally quiet by any standards, this was still uncomfortably noticeable.

Alys was not overly given to reflection, although she could hardly be accused of being slow-witted or incurious, but the commission had given her plenty to think about. It just didn't seem right somehow, and not only how things had turned out. The whole basic premise felt wrong to her. After a few more minutes she asked, "What'll happen to him?"

Galf didn't even look at her; he clearly didn't want much to talk about it. "He'll be charged for the murder of Lord Mayor Argus Gray. Well," Galf amended morosely, "if he's still alive, at any rate. Zio will probably theatrically defend him, but as for the rest… a reasonable judge would feel some sympathy for him, but there's no telling of how they'd sum up."

"You liked him," she ventured quietly.

Galf shrugged his voice expressionless. "We both did." They kept on walking, and, after a few more moments of silence Alys became intensely aware of the scuffing sound that her boots were making on the sand.

She said directly, "It's not right."

Galf sighed. "A lot of things in the world aren't. We're not here to right every injustice though. And," he stopped, abruptly, turning and looking at her, "we can't get involved personally in these things. I was hired to do a job, and I did it."

Alys bit her lip, struggling with logic she'd more or less accepted for the last few years of her life. "I know that. It feels different when you're put in the position though…"

"It was my fault," Galf muttered. "I shouldn't have let myself like the magistrate so much anyway, and you shouldn't have worked with him quite as closely. And anyway, I didn't act on my suspicions like I should have."

Alys looked sharply at him. "What do you mean? It didn't quite satisfy me; things turned out too… neatly." She paused for a moment, slowly realizing. "That was it all along; the whole thing felt stagy. Ferrio, I believe could have killed, and probably did kill Crane, but the rest of it…"

Galf drew in a sharp breath. "Aye." He set off walking again. "I think I almost grasped the truth when we first met with Zio. I knew there was something about him… reminded me of a story I heard about at the Guild a few years back; curious circumstances surrounding some apparently false prophet or other. I should have looked into the details of that, found out if he'd been one of the kids involved." His tone grew a little rougher. "I ignored that instinct, though, until we were back in the church. I was watching Juza at the time, so I didn't notice…"

Alys swallowed hard. "Notice what?"

"It was a very good performance," Galf muttered angrily. "Zio made one simple little mistake. He was accustomed to dealing with the magistrate and forgot that we were part of the audience too. When he admitted that he and Ferrio had not always agreed, or, in other words, that they had quarreled, and probably recently, I should have realized…"

Alys frowned. "What's the motive?"

"Zio's a zealot. We had the wrong end of the stick the whole time, he wasn't after influence. Or at least not in the way we thought he was. Ferrio was probably a presence in his church; he might have been able to create influence of his own. Zio didn't care about meseta or the council; he just wanted Ferrio out of the way. I don't think he can have planned for the magistrate to have fallen apart like that, but that helps him too. The only person on the council with the balls to stand in his way is facing charges of murder."

Blood coursing through her veins, Alys managed, "You only have conjecture."

Galf looked over his shoulder at her, smiling, but not entirely happily. "You're learning girl. I have only the slightest shred of evidence, the slightest shred. And that's open to more than one interpretation. I did the job I was commissioned to do, and I did right by my employer. There are situations where that's all the right that can be done."

The two walked on in further silence. "Yeah," muttered Alys at last.


	5. Chapter 5: Epilogue

Chapter 5:

Epilogue

He finally slept, but even the sleeping was no good. The black thoughts that he'd tried so hard to regulate into some sort of usefulness when awake were all there when he slept. The years of his life stretched out before him, all of the time he'd wasted on the council, the foolish emotionalisms in which he'd indulged, Lord Mayor Argus with blood spilling out of the broad slit in his throat and Elizabeth… Elizabeth most of all.

Juza was sick of it all, sick of every person he'd ever known, but the sleeping lent him no succor. He had dreamed enough for a lifetime before this, and what follies he had dreamt of; honor, duty, loyalty, justice, even love, in a pale, diluted form. "Only a fool," he remembered, weeping. Or had that been someone else? There were so many of them, and so many things, mixing together. And Elizabeth was always there. How he'd been drawn to that woman, to the point of surrendering a part of his rationality, just to obtain her…

Through it all, he smelled onions. Blinking heavily, Juza groaned, forcing himself to sit up. Sunlight framed the… cell? Frowning in confusion, he looked down at his bed. It was a straw pallet. Bile rose at the back of his throat. _I killed him. _He made a brief, clumsy gesture, trying to rise to his feet. _Elizabeth… _Juza's chest clenched, and he fell.

"Gods," he groaned, weakly pushing against the floor. After a moment more, he gave up, collapsing, sprawled out on the cold stone of his cell. His back was screaming in protest; Juza supposed that he must have strained it or something in the fight that had culminated in his… his killing. His jaw set itself. He would not think of that as murder. _I shouldn't have bloody well stopped with Argus. This whole vile town… Zio and Vincent Koto first, perhaps. Then the rest of the bloody council…_

Steeling himself to try again, Juza took a deep breath. After taking a moment more to steady himself, he pushed against the floor, stretching out his legs. Just as one foot seemed to have pushed its way onto solid ground, his back gave out and fell face forward into the stone. "Son of a bitch!"

Panting, red-faced with effort and weakness, Juza pushed again, helplessly against the floor, when he heard the sound of a door opening. He looked up instead, his anger full upon him. It was Sergeant Detton. "Well," he snarled viciously, "what is this? Feeding time for the prisoner?"

Detton's face was completely impassive. "Beg your pardon, sir, but I heard you moving around, and your shout. As I am on duty, I had to—"

"Don't quote your regulations to me," Juza flared. "I practically wrote the bloody book. You only came here because you wanted to see me humbled a little. Well, what's it like, Detton? Happy to see me on the ground?"

"Your food from yesterday is still in the cell, sir, although I can bring you today's ration, if you wish."

Momentarily diverted, Juza craned his neck around to follow his subordinate's finger. Over against the left wall, he saw a bowl and realized why the smell of onions had filled the cell. "Onion soup is just raw enough to feed to prisoners, is it? Well piss in that!"

"That, sir, is entirely up to you." Detton began turning away.

"Wait," begged Juza, willing his anger into natural weariness instead. "Please, I… what are you going to do with me?" To his humiliation, he could hear the pleading whine in his voice.

Detton turned quietly back. "You are being held until the Council is at liberty to pursue the charges against you."

Juza's mouth twitched. He could just imagine the kind of investigation he'd get from that lot of spineless sycophants. At white heat, he snarled, "I'm the goddamn magistrate here, charged or no, and I say who gets a goddamn trial!" Detton just looked at him with that same impassive face, and Juza, fearing that he'd leave, sputtered, "I… dammit, Detton, but don't you see, what's happening here? This isn't a bloody trial, it's a fucking massacre!"

"This is not a matter of political disagreement, sir. You have been charged of murder, and you shall have to answer that."

Juza closed his eyes, seeking to grasp the moment and simultaneously push away unproductive anger. "Where," he asked at last, "is the hunter?"

"Galf the Thunder Sword left after the completion of his contract."

"Dammit, man," Juza burst out, his fist striking the floor. The skin on his knuckles split. _That was foolish of me._ "He was bloody well there, he saw! He saw it all. He has to testify. He saw that I was setup. All of it," he ranted wildly, "a bloody setup!" Even as he said the words in his enveloping wrath, Juza felt a colder part of his mind click. Setup… He had not wanted to see it, but this was Zio's show, he was sure of it. Zio had known where Ferrio was, Zio had proven he could kill Ferrio at any time he wanted, without assistance, Zio had lured them away from the town…

Detton in the meantime was slipping through the door, fumbling with his keys. "No," gasped Juza. "Dammit, Detton, don't leave me here! Not like this! Not now! I can't stay…" _Can't go back,_ he thought hollowly, _but I can't stay here either. Not like this. I can't go into a trial like this, I don't like anyone. They all hate me._ His mouth quivering, Juza could feel his voice dissolving into tears. "Can't," he muttered wetly, staring at the floor. "Can't."

Juza didn't know how long he lay there like that, but at last he tried to move again. He still couldn't get up. With a grunt of self-disgust, he finally gave up, fully aware that he would be in even worse shape the next time he tried. He noted vaguely that there was no more sunlight; it was night now.

After a few more minutes, he started dragging himself wearily across the floor, toward the bowl of cold onion soup. He would, after all, do himself no good by not eating, so he might as well try to eat a little. Once he was by the bowl, however, he had the additional difficulty of forcing himself into something like a sitting position.

Straining with one arm against the wall, he managed to halfway push himself up, only for his leg to lose its balance at the last moment and crash back down. His knee cracked against the floor. To keep from shouting, Juza bit his lip. "Progress," he mumbled, wiping the blood off of his mouth, noting that he was much closer to not lying face-down on the floor than any of his previous attempts had seen him in. After massaging his knee for a couple of minutes, he twisted awkwardly around, finally able to put his back to the wall. With a sigh of relief, he allowed his arms to flop down, only for his right arm to send the bowl of soup spinning.

"Dammit," he swore, watching helplessly as his dinner splashed all over the floor. "Dammit, dammit, dammit, dammit." He tilted his head back, staring miserably up at the ceiling. Miserable… he was the most miserable, pathetic being to ever exist in Algo. "Can't manage to get up. Can't even manage to feed myself."

His eyes stung, but he had no inclination to go back to sleep. He would rather face the reality of the broken wreck that he was than face the nightmares that had plagued him for however long he'd been in this damn cell. "Oh…" he sighed.

He had handled this first day very, very badly. It wasn't likely to get any judge to feel sympathy for him, and anyway, behaving so pathetically touched his pride. Why not get back to thinking of the practicalities? That would help him more than any amount of high-flung drama would. "Gods," he muttered, "how did I let myself come to this?"

Lord Mayor Argus was dead at his hands; his bloody wife was dead… _Zio did that. But if I hadn't been so bloody sorry for myself, I wouldn't have rejected her when she came to see me. She wouldn't have been back at the house… That's on my hands too._

He closed his eyes for a moment, clenched his fists. "I killed both of them." Argus had deserved to die; Juza still felt that strongly, but like that? No. It was wrong. Murder was wrong, and that was what Juza had done. "The scum deserved to die by law, not by... vigilante justice." _Not by unthinking, murderous rage. Not the way I killed the poor bastard. Now Betsy probably hates me too. _

They had all hated Juza over the years, and he could do little more than heartily agree with them. He had failed at so much. He had failed Kadary by losing on Zio, by not taking a harder line against the corruption on the council. He had failed himself, not solving Crane's murder soon enough. He had failed Betsy, killing her husband like that. He had even failed Zio, not taking him on in the confrontation that he could have done.

_And Galf… Alys. I failed them too, or they would have been here, speaking the truth… I failed them with my own goddamn self-importance. _For a brief moment, he wondered about the two them. Had they gotten away safely? He didn't remember. _Another bloody failure. Couldn't even look after my… my associates. And Ferrio, I let Zio use him and murder him. _

By all the gods of Algo, he was a pathetic, disgusting, useless excuse for a man. No wonder he had failed his wife. Letting his breath out explosively, Juza cradled his head in his hands. He had been wrong and he deserved this. Still, if it was going to come to trial… _Well, that's a chance to ruin Zio, at least, though I don't doubt that the bastard is prepared for that. Probably bribed the whole bloody council. _There was, Juza decided fuzzily, nowhere worse to be than in his own mind in a prison cell.

---

Wearily, he cracked his eyes open. Daylight again. Again… Oh yes, he remembered. Flexing his sore limbs a little, he muttered, "Locked up on charges likely to hang me." With a grunt, he tried to stand, and found, to his surprise, that it was a little easier than he remembered it being.

Clutching the wall for support, Juza tried a small step. Just as he began to put his foot down, he felt it. Blazing pain in his back. With a gasp, he half-fell into the wall instead of on the floor. "Hah," he wheezed, kicking the floor savagely. "That's not a failure, you dirty bastard. Got the better of you, now didn't I?" With a gasp, he tried again.

After a few more minutes, and more than one humiliating fall into the wall, Juza began to get the hang of it. He didn't remember what had happened to his back, but he could manage to limp about the room, so long as he was careful with his left leg. With a groan, he pushed his hands into his face, feeling the lines of it, and pushing them back to smooth his hair down.

With short, hobbling steps, Juza made his way over to the small window on the far side of the cell. He winced away a bit from the full sunlight streaming into his face, staring miserably out onto the dusty streets of Kadary. "I could have done good, once," he whispered staring at it all. "When did it all go wrong?" But in his heart he knew the answer to that. It had gone wrong when he started failing.

A cough behind him recalled Juza from his morbid pondering. "Your food," said Detton shortly, unlocking the door. Juza hobbled awkwardly across the cell, but Detton had already set down the bowl of soup, bowl of water, and chunk of bread before Juza could reach the door.

"No, please," Juza begged quickly. "Don't, don't go." _Don't leave me here with myself for company; I couldn't bear it, please…_ Besides, Detton had already seen Juza at his worst. What did it matter if he stayed now?

Detton studied him briefly. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Please," said Juza, "a little wine. I need just a little… I won't get drunk. I just need…"

"You know I can't do that."

Somehow, Juza forgot the words he meant to say, to tell Detton how he had tried so hard… _I did bloody well more than try, dammit! I did…_ his shoulders slumped, slightly. _I failed. _"Imprisoned or no, I am still your bloody magistrate. I de…" after a long moment, Juza swallowed back the order, and said more mildly, "Please. Just a little."

Detton's eyes flickered briefly, though whether from disgust or pity Juza would never know. The sergeant left the room, leaving Juza standing there, feeling a fool, but he returned shortly, passing Juza a small flask and then wordlessly leaving again.

With a pathetic sigh of relief, Juza sat down on the pallet, working on the food and the wine. It improved his temperament only slightly, but what was there to improve, really? "I'm a failure," he announced, abruptly. He looked over at the door, but he didn't see Detton there. "You're a failure." He shook his head. "We're all failures," he informed the cell.

That night, Juza's sleep was surprisingly restful, but still tainted with dreams of the destruction he'd caused by each failure he'd ever known.

---

On the morning of the third day, for the first time Juza could presently recall, he felt refreshed. Sitting up, he started to move off of the pallet, but with a grunt of surprise lost his balance again and fell on the floor. _This is bloody ridiculous. Forgot about the damn leg again, more fool I. _With a grunt that was somewhere between self-disgust and deprecating amusement, Juza carefully pulled himself back up, using his left leg as little as possible.

"Gah," he muttered, hobbling over to what was left of his water from yesterday. Cupping the liquid in his hands, he splashed it into his face to more fully revive himself. It was only tepid, but Juza still felt very awake, comfortable almost.

Pacing about the cell as best he could manage, Juza knew that he'd have to start thinking now. The truth of the matter was that he had been truly pathetic over the past two days. He still was a failure in the wider sense, perhaps, but, gods of Algo be good, that was no excuse for what he'd done. Lying around on the floor, whining to himself when he had a trial to prepare for…

The question was, while staving off utter collapse with one hand, what approach to take? He couldn't plead guilty and hope for clemency; if he was presiding over such a case, he certainly wouldn't give himself any clemency. Besides which, his colleagues wanted to prove him guilty, of that much, Juza was quite certain. So, what approach to take? Blame everything on Zio or toss the dice and demand trial by combat? Such a method of ascertaining justice was ridiculous and archaic, but it was not outlawed yet. _Still, even if I were to do such a thing, who could I find who would bloody well champion me?_

And blaming Zio would not be much good either; he had no evidence of that. "Gods," he muttered, sinking back down on his pallet. "I've wrecked everything." If only he hadn't been so busy feeling so bloody sorry for himself he might have been able to do something about the Crane murder… _And Elizabeth. That was my fault, and I killed Argus for it, and what does that make me? _

Juza sat there, staring numbly at his hands. For twenty long years, he'd done his best by Kadary until Elizabeth had come into his life and he had been undone by that intangible of hers. For twenty years, he'd had his hands on all the justice that he could and now… "I did try," he muttered, miserably. "I tried so bloody hard." And it had all been for nothing.

The door creaked open. Juza looked up, distracted, frowning slightly. "A bit early for feeding the contemptible prisoner, isn't it?"

As always, Detton's face remained devoid of expression. "You have a visitor, Magistrate."

Juza sat straight up, blood pounding through his head. _It's not… she didn't die, please tell me it was just my failing, she didn't… _

The smooth, cultured, familiar tone rang out from behind Detton's broad back. "Thank you, sergeant, if you will just excuse us briefly? That is one of the regulations, I believe? Yes? Very good."

Detton stepped aside, announcing, unnecessarily, "Lord Zio," before slipping back out through the door.

Juza's breath came choppy and harsh. _Zio. _All of the black hatred that had been present in his thoughts over the past several days came focusing in on the figure before him. The corners of Zio's mouth curved upwards slightly, as though in a smirk of triumph. He took two steps toward the cell, slowly swelling in Juza's vision.

"My poor friend," the priest said softly. "You are in a bad situation, though I think there will be no question of understanding. I feel I can only blame myself that you have come to this."

Imposing the most rigid self-control he could muster, Juza growled, "An unnecessary gesture, my lord. You don't need to hold yourself accountable, because, I bloody well do!"

Zio shook his head. "I can understand that you still are in the grip of that most dreadful misery, however—"

"Don't try that line with me." Juza glared at the priest with fully renewed loathing. "I see what you bloody well did there. You lured us out the town so that you could pull that stunt."

Zio said very quietly, "It was not I who killed Argus."

Juza jerked, feeling as though he'd been slapped. "Don't even speak of that to me," he snarled, viciously. _He can't have meant that to be set up though… killing him was my own choice, my own volition…_ Troubled by this, Juza snapped, "You used Ferrio to advance your own aims. Cruelly. Almost as cruelly as you used us."

Zio sighed, shaking his head. "Oh my friend, my friend, how can I make you understand? I do know what you were feeling there, I know how pain can grasp one. Don't you see, there is no one who does not understand, Juza? No one. What you did… it had its own honor, its own nobility. You saw what Lord Mayor Argus Gray was doing to Kadary, and you had to act…"

The last of his composure collapsed. "No! Don't you bloody well understand, Zio? It wasn't a reasoned killing, I lost my head. And I _did _kill him. That was _wrong_!"

"You were driven out of your mind with grief, and a man has a right to vengeance."

"Don't spout your quasi-religious platitudes at me," Juza snarled at white heat. "And don't even dream of saying there's some way my action was excusable. Murder is wrong, and I killed him regardless of what he was doing to Kadary. I deserve to be on trial. That," he pointed a furious finger at Zio, "is the difference between you and me. Unlike you, I take responsibility for my failings." _Bloody failure… why should I be vilifying myself to him? _

Zio sighed again, turning away, putting a hand through his hair. His air was akin to a father trying to explain something to a recalcitrant son. "Juza, you had a right to grief, for you truly loved your wife; almost as much as you loved Kadary. Anyone could have seen that. And what you did… you did everyone a great service. Without you, could we have stopped Ferrio? And had you not been driven beyond endurance, what would the council under the leadership of Argus eventually have done? Under the circumstances…"

"No," screamed Juza, violently hitting the floor. He could not accept Zio's suggestion, his return to the subject of the investigation that had ended in killing Ferrio. That touched something raw inside of him. "No, no, no, no, no! It wasn't supposed to happen like that! There weren't supposed to be more deaths… _I wasn't supposed to care!_" He was shaking.

"My friend," said Zio softly.

Juza's face twisted in sheer agony, threatening to collapse again into tears. "I did not… _not_ love her. It was a logical… logic…" he was shaking again. _I can't have loved her, I never did…_ "You did this to all of us," he flared. "You killed Ferrio and Argus and Elizabeth and wrecked me. I…" _It can't be all true. There were things… he couldn't have anticipated… but it was a setup… a setup… oh, gods, Elizabeth… _

Zio shook his head again, an almost tender expression on his face. "It was painful, yes," he whispered. "What I went through, that too was painful. It is through pain and suffering that all people learn what they possess; within… progress comes from hurt, Juza. You would not want to give that away, not for any price."

"That's ridiculous! Progress can come through pain, but it doesn't have to come through… that sort of a blanket statement has no application."

"What," asked Zio gently, oh so gently, "is the difference between that and the progress that comes with logic, by which you measure all events, my poor friend?"

"I… there isn't… the difference…" Before his eyes, Juza could see all the events since he'd been roused, informed of Crane's death, flashing in front of him. It had been logic then, and now. _He's lying. I know he's lying. And yet, how does it all…_ After a long moment, Juza sighed slowly. _Elizabeth would have said there's a difference. She would not have… _"They are not the same."

Zio laughed softly. "Pain is pain, Juza. If you have suffered then you know this. Logic is logic."

He dug his nails into his hands, willing the voice to stop. "Not everybody commits murder." _Again… I'm worse than he is!_

"And not everybody has the courage of conviction, to die for a murder that was a noble act in itself. Not everybody has the strength of love, to love so much, even after that, that they would go upright to a trial…"

"Stop it!" He had never loved, pain was not pain, murder was wrong… _He couldn't have known she'd go back to the house, he couldn't have meant Ferrio to…_ "Silence!"

Zio's voice rose and fell. "If progress came solely from logic, Lord Mayor Argus Gray was the best-suited man to his position that you would ever have found. Everything he did benefited him. It was logical. He progressed through life. But pain teaches. Pain cleanses."

"I…" The logic of it was inescapable, but that wasn't a valid objection. "Moralistic…" Visions of his life swam before his eyes, enveloping the senses. It was in logic he had failed Kadary. How had it not been? He had applied logic, and the council had been ruled by Argus Gray. He had applied logic and Ned Crane had been murdered. He had applied logic and… _Zio did it!_ He had to have done it, but if he hadn't… Elizabeth floated before him, her head at that familiar tilt… _No!_ That way, madness lay. That way was worse even than the pain. There was the guilt. His chest clenched.

Juza Atheon let out a long miserable sigh. "The difference," he whispered hoarsely… "Different _worlds._ It builds a different world."

Zio smiled at him. "Beauty can only be found in contrast to that which is vile, Juza. A different world indeed."

Juza barely heard him. _Elizabeth…_ That had been a different world. A world taken from him. A world he deserved a world to be rebuilt… He couldn't feel the sorrow any longer. Only the pain was left. It was a sobering thought.


End file.
